


Hush

by AwkwardGhost_1782



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Family Dynamics, Friends With Benefits, Gay John Laurens, Historical References, Implied Sexual Content, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Modern Era, Overprotective big brother Lafayette, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-06-30 05:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardGhost_1782/pseuds/AwkwardGhost_1782
Summary: After life threw Alexander around for years, things finally started settling down. He had a loving family, an education, and caring friends. A home.But of course, the world isn't quite done with him just yet.When he starts talking to John Laurens, supposedly bratty, snobbish, rich John Laurens, and finds out that what people say about him are nothing but myths he finds himself tangled on a secret friendship which eventually morphs, quite accidentally, into something more with the South Carolinian. He can't let people know about them, especially not his lovable but oh so overbearing brother Lafayette.It gets even worse when feelings are thrown into the picture.But whatever, what Lafayette doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?





	1. Lucky Boy; Rick Kid

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time posting something here on AO3 so I’m still figuring things out, but I hope this is good! This fanfic is also being posted on my Wattpad account, but anyhow, I hope you guys like it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Now,
> 
> Enjoy?

 

I, Alexander Hamilton, would've never considered myself _lucky_.

Not when my dad left to never be seen again, and that ogre by the name of Johann Lavern kept coming back to ruin our lives, still bitter with the fact that my mom had left him. Not when my brother and I would get shamed and scorned for mom's unfair reputation. Not when my mother died, and my cousin who never truly saw us as family committed suicide. And then my brother and I got separated and a hurricane destroyed everything I ever thought I knew.

Not then. Luck was nothing but a myth.

And then things took quite a turn.

After the world decided that my life was sufficiently fucked up I landed on Thomas Steven's house. He's a kind man who welcomed me and other three foster children into his home: Maria who's in middle school, Burr who's technically not in foster care anymore but is allowed to stay until he finds a place to live. And Lafayette.

Lafayette is a sweetheart, but he loves me a _little_ too much.

When I first arrived I was a skinny, lanky little thing. Not that I am not anymore, unfortunately my shape remains the same, but it's nothing compared to the starving kid I had once been. The moment Lafayette saw me he decided that I needed protection, which I denied. Even though he's only a few months older than me he adopted the role of being my older brother, and that's how things have remained. He can be annoying and overbearing at times but I love him just the same. How can I not? He's family.

Aside from four foster children, Thomas Stevens has a son of his own: Edward Stevens, Neddy for close friends. He dreams of becoming a doctor and publishing a medicine book. People say we look "weirdly alike" but I honestly don't see it.

With a nice home, loving siblings, and a caring group of friends, I think I can finally say things are looking okay for me. I'm not sure if it will last, so I'll just grasp tightly at every second of it so I can at least have some good memories when it's time to let go of it once again.

Whistling lowly to myself  I close my locker and head to class, there's only one period left: French with Mr. Steuben. I was pretty much fluent in the language so I took this class mostly for fun, Mr. Steuben was an amusing teacher and it was always fun to share a class with Kitty Livingston. She's a curly haired blond, brown-eyed beauty. I used to have a crush on her but it didn't quite work out, and by that I mean that she rejected me. But we remained friends afterwards. Giggling she slapped my back our way to class which hurt more than I let on, probably her way to say "hi" or something, I stopped questioning her a long time ago. The thing about Kitty is, she's smart but that won't stop her from acting on her silliness, and it's honestly kind of endearing.

"Hey, Hammie!" She laughed.

"Hey," I smiled.

She bumped our hips and she started walking next to me. "Did you do the French homework?"

"Duh, it was pretty easy. Which is like a first for Mr. Steuben,"

"Should've known," Kitty said with a roll of her eyes.

We entered the classroom a few minutes earlier than most students as always as we usually do, and just as early was John Laurens who sat in the back of the classroom.

What to say about John Laurens?

I personally don't really know him, but to say he isn't exactly the most loved student on campus is an understatement. He has earned the reputation of being an arrogant prick, of thinking he's the best because of his daddy's money. He's aggressive, constantly getting into pointless fights just for the sake of it. And all his friendships are short lasting, probably because he's kind of an asshole. Personally, I've never spoken to him, and it's not exactly something I have on my agenda either. He doesn't seem like the kind of person you'd like to be friends with.

Kitty and I pay no mind to him as always as we settle on the first row. I playfully bicker with her as we take out our materials until she hits me with a ruler. Friendship, right?

Yeah, I think my life is pretty okay as it is now.

 

 

•••

 

 

Lafayette always gets out of school late because of his numerous clubs, he's always trying something new whenever is extracurriculars or that weird looking dish on the menu. Last month it was chess club but now I think it's the Dungeons and Dragons club, though I could be wrong. It's not always easy to keep track of everything he gets himself into. Bottomline is every day after school I have to text him when I'm done with class and once again when I arrive home, it's kinda annoying but he worries a lot so I just comply.

Today I had to stay a few minutes behind because Mr. Steuben wanted to discuss the possibility me being a tutor for younger students (not a chance in hell) and just because of ten minutes my phone was blowing up with notifications, all from Lafayette, and also one from Instagram.

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Hammie you out?**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Hello???**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Alex?????** **Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Is everything okay!?** **Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Please answer me!!**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Alexander!!!**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: I'm skipping club today**

**_-NightcoreGurl89-_ liked your picture**

**Little Lion: I'm okay Lafayette, I was just talking to Mr. Steuben.**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Are you in trouble???**

**Little Lion: No, it was just some tutoring stuff. Everything's alright, I promise.**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: You sure???**

**Little Lion: Yes, you can stay at your club meeting. Don't worry, Laf.**

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: Okay!!!** **Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: <3 <3 <3 <3 **

I stuff my phone in my pocket with a sigh. I love Lafayette, I really do. I just wish he wasn't so... How to put it kindly?

 _Overbearing_.

I hurry my step to get home sooner, not really feeling like being virtually attacked with notifications again. There are _no_ distractions allowed.

Hey, is that John Laurens over there?

Okay, maybe just _one_ quick distraction.

I slow down and look at his direction discretely, not really eager to get caught staring. He's couching down on the hot pavement beside the school gate, on one hand he's holding what looks like part of a chicken sandwich and the other he has what's probably the rest of said sandwich, feeding it to a dog. The dog in question has light brown short fur and must be almost as tall as my knee. He's wagging his tail happily as Laurens rubs his back, looking at the dog with what can only be described as affection.

The scene seems almost foreign to me, it doesn't fit the image of Laurens that I have engraved in my mind. Of the selfish rich kid that everyone claims he is.

I pick up my step and leave the school behind, not being able to shake my thoughts away. I guess I'll have to figure out John Laurens on my own.


	2. Diving In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many introducitions I’M SORRY

 

 

After around ten minutes I arrive to the Stevens residence, Thomas himself doesn't seem to be present but everyone else is, excluding Lafayette of course. With my own set of keys ,I open the door and step in, breathing in the smell of cupcakes.

"What's up with the smell?" I ask no one in specific. Maria, who's sitting at the dining table surrounded by history notes, takes a second to swallow the rest of the cupcake and respond.

"A girl in my school had a birthday party and brought a bunch of those," The brunette explained.

"Uuuu, are there any for me?"

" _No,_ " Maria and Burr say simultaneously. They have always been closer to each other than to the rest of us, but I don't mind. It's not like we don't get along. My relationship with Aaron is a little tense but nothing bad, I would say.

"You guys are awful!" I whine as I walk toward my room. It's the last one down the hall, besides it there's Maria's room and across its Burr's. Lafayette's is upstairs just like Thomas' and Neddie's. It's a pretty big house, which is not strange after you see Thomas' paycheck. He's a humble man and acts like it's not much but he's one of the most successful businessmen here in Georgia, which sure comes in handy when you have to maintain a bunch of children on your own.

I throw myself on my bed and send a quick text to Lafayette, letting him know that I didn't been kidnapped by a drug cartel on my way home. Stretching my hand over to my nightstand I grab my copy of Brave New World and look for the page I last read, I already read this book once when I was fourteen but it doesn't hurt to do it again, especially since I quite like it. It's about a utopian future in which humans are genetically bred and pharmaceutically anesthetized to passively serve a ruling order, just my type of book. Still, something in the back of my brain kept nagging me about John Laurens, flooding my thoughts with questions.

After forty minutes or so of forcing myself to read the words printed on paper and failing miserably, I hear the door open and slam against what I suppose was the wall. Lafayette is home. Without even feeling guiltily I put the book away and leave my room, I would read it some other day. In front of the door, I see my brother kissing Maria's cheeks and tickling her ribs, it's a tender scene, the type that makes you want to coo out loud. After Maria pushes him away he turns toward me and smiles, his teeth looking so big it might seem like they barely fit in his mouth.

"ALEX!"

Next thing I know my body was being pulled into a bone-crushing hug, the air in my lungs being immediately thrown out of my body. "Hey there, Laf," I manage to choke out.

"How are you my little lion?" He mumbled on my fair.

"'m fine. Hey, I kinda need to breathe so if you could just—" He immediately steps back, giving me the chance to look at his face.

Lafayette is taller and stronger than me, meaning he gives some mean hugs, but sometimes they can be too much. He's 5'9 and still holds some muscles from when he was on the swimming team, but is still on the slimmer side. Tied in a ponytail is his windblown frizzy hair accompanied with a relatively thin set of eyebrows, at least compared to other men. When he smiles, his full lips stretch and cover half of his face, almost resembling a happy puppy, which is a pretty accurate description of Lafayette.

"Oh! _Désolé_ , Alex. How was your day? Did you eat well?"

Uh, no.

"Of course," I lie like a little shit, fortunately, Lafayette believes me.

"Good," He decides before pulling me into another warm hug.

What is there not to love about Lafayette?

 

 

•••

 

  My thoughts about John Laurens chased me all the way to school the next day. Without meaning to I found myself observing him on the halls. His face didn't betray any emotions, which compared to how content he looked yesterday evening just made his features look grim. I decided John Laurens looked better when wearing emotion. I gotta admit, the guy is quite handsome. He's tall, and under the slightly baggy denim jacket he wore I could notice his sculpted arms. His jaw was sharp and his lips smooth looking, and even though his ears stick awkwardly to the sides and has a little too many freckles on his skin, his face is nice to look at. His cocoa colored hair was neatly tied back, but his curls refused to stay put and ended up framing his face beautifully. John Laurens is dazzling, in all honesty.

But doesn't mean I like him as a person. I want to approach him eventually, see his true colors, but until then I'll stay neutral toward him. For the time being, he's a handsome face to look at with a questionable personality. 

"What's got you all thoughtful today, Hammie? You thinking of a way to destroy Adams at debate once again?" Asks Angelica Schuyler.

Somehow, I found myself being friends with all the Schuyler sisters, including little Catherine and Cornelia. Their shoes probably cost more than all the clothes I've ever owned and yet they're nice people, maybe a little too much for my taste but I try not to mind too much. I get along well with their dad too, Philip Schuyler, and he has tried to offer me money. I don't take money, I'm not a charity case. Occasional pitying looks aside, the Schuylers are an amazing family and I'm glad to have them as my friends.

Angelica in specific is a dazzling, witty woman in the disguise of a dark-eyed brunette. People dismiss her as your typical rich girl which I gotta say, is a huge mistake. She's quirky, crazy smart, knows the way to a person's head and to their heart. If there's someone I enjoy discussing things with it's her, no doubts. The only questionable thing about her is her friendship with Thomas Jefferson, but as long as she doesn't talk to me about that jerk I'll let it slide.

"You know me," I say. "But no. Let's say is classified for now,"

She whistles flirtatiously. "Classified, huh? Any romances I need to know about?"

I scoff, hell no. "That's up to you to question and up to me to keep,"

"You're such a drama queen, Hamilton,"

"It pains me that it took you this long to realize,"

 

•••

 

It's almost the end of lunch, I find myself walking the halls in search for my locker when I stumble upon John Laurens, opening his own locker, and he's all alone. Now it's my time to attack.

Wait, that sounded very weird.

I decided that if I'm going to approach John Laurens I might as well do it today, but my many friends have kept me from it. I don't exactly want people to see me interacting with John Laurens, especially not Lafayette. He'd totally freak out if he saw me taking to such "dangerous individual" and would forbid me from standing within a twenty-meter radius from him or something. Which I'd honestly rather avoid. I don't need to give him another reason to be obsessing over me.

After double-checking absolutely nobody is around I finally walk up to John Laurens. 

"Hello," I say once I'm standing next to him, up close he's not as tall as he seems but must still be around 5'11, so definitely still way taller than me.

He takes a second to consider me before responding. I can now see his deep hazel eyes, they look at me skeptically. "Can I do something for you?"

"Having a conversation would definitely be nice," Laurens immediately frowns, I'm not sure if from annoyance or confusion.

"What do you want?"

"Saw you yesterday after school, you were sharing your food with a dog," I change the subject and try to sound casual rather than borderline stalker-ish. "Do you do that often or what?"

Laurens responds though he sounds apprehensive. "Uh, yeah, I do it almost every day. His name is Brutus,"

I gotta admit, my heart ached a bit. I share a weird empathy with abandoned dogs but I don't talk much about it. Point is, what he does is kinda adorable and kind. I decide to voice my thoughts.

"Is it? I find it mildly decent,"

"Why do you think that?"

He shrugs. "I don't give him a roof nor a bed, just some food excluding the weekends and pats that anyone could give,"

"But they don't, you do," I copy him and shrug. "It's sure better than nothing,"

I could almost dare to say the hint of a smile pulled at John's lips. "Perhaps,"

The bell rings.

"I should go," John immediately says.

"Of course!" I respond just as fast. "I suppose I'll see you around?"

"Maybe,"

And just like that, he's gone.

Congratulations, John Laurens. You have spiked my curiosity


	3. Unsatisfied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there such thing as too many italics?

"What's up with all the pointless fights?"

Laurens slams his locker shut and takes a deep, annoyed breath. Maybe it's the fact that I've been low-key stalking him for the past week or so, but whatever. I'm sure enjoys my company even just a tiny bit.  
John Laurens has sure proven to be a fairly interesting individual. So far I've learnt he has a sister, takes an art elective, wears a lot of white (and quite expensive looking) clothes for some reason, has a hidden bottle of hair gel inside his locker, and is a TØP fan.

Aside from the borderline stalking, I've also managed to have short conversations with him, and I've seen how strong his ideals are, the secret passion he has. But that's not _enough_. I haven't learnt anything _relevant_.

"What do you mean by "pointless fights"?" He says while squinting his hazel eyes at me. It's not exactly a glare, but almost.

"I mean a fight that has no point or purpose, that's kinda the definition of pointless y'know. The dictionary definition would be _something that has n—"_

"I _don't_ get into pointless fights," John cuts me off. "If I throw a punch, it isn't for no reason,"

"Do you, now?" I taunt him, just because I feel like seeing him get fired up. Laurens has a boiling cauldron of fire within him that he keeps trying to put off, and in those scarce instances I get to see the flames behind his eyes I only conclude that I want to see more. It's a notch too dangerous and I'd say borderline addictive, but it's not my fault John looks so _alive_ when he's angry.

I'm an asshole, sue me.

"Why don't you never shut up?"

"Hey, if you want me to leave so badly—"

"No, I mean _why_ don't you close your mouth when something bothers you?"

I scoff.

" _Because_ I'm good with words and if someone says something I disagree on I'm gonna let them know," I explain, not exactly sure what's the point he wants to get. But Laurens smiles like I just gave the answer he was hoping for.

" _Exactly_. You're good with words so you fight with words. I'm good with punching so I fight with my fist. I simply let people know when they're being assholes on a different way," Laurens summarizes as he starts walking toward his classroom. I catch up with him.

"That is an excellent point, John Laurens,"

"I didn't make a point, I just told the truth,"

Trying to formulate an objective opinion of Laurens' character is very hard when he goes around saying shit like that. Witty people are just oh so very attractive. Hence my past massive crush on Kitty. She may act silly but she's also smart and clever, a dangerous combination when mixed with good looks.

Just then I feel my phone vibrate on my pocket, and I don't even need to look at the screen to know it's Lafayette. John glances at me with a knowing look, I guess he caught up after a few days. I try to be subtle about the personal matters of the family but Lafayette makes that task more complicated than it should. I guess trying to find out about Laurens' personal life is pretty hypocritical, considering I don't want him to know about mine.

"Gotta go?"

I sigh. "Yes, but this won't be the last you see of me," I declare, making John raise his brows.

"I wasn't expecting so," He says, and I'm not sure of what to make of such a simple phrase.

•••

Lafayette and the rest of the squad are waiting for me next to the girl's bathroom. I'm not sure what's going on but I only got a few more minutes to get to class and I won't hesitate to leave them in order to maintain my perfect assistance record. I look at them with a questioningly but they only snicker and giggle. I am officially lost.

"What is going on?" I ask. Eliza laughs harder while she points at the entrance.

"Peggy's writing the bee movie script on the bathroom walls with her red lipstick," She manages to say while leaning on Kitty.

Meade, the only person here who's not laughing, sighs exasperatedly. "She's gonna get in so much fucking trouble,"

"Mom friend," Hercules coughs out.

"I won't be your mom friend after I kick your ass for being an idiot,"

"Guys," I interfere. " _Why_?"

"I think the question you should be asking yourself is," Angelica says. "Why not?"

There are _many_ reasons to why not but I guess the level of importance of those reasons vary between every person here, mine being apparently the highest.

"Still, class is literally about to start and—" Lafayette gasps.

"Hammie is right! You shouldn't miss class, _mon cher frère_!"

I mean,

 _You_ were the one that called me here, Laf.

But sure.

Eliza rolls her eyes as if to say "class is for losers" but kisses my cheek and Lafayette's goodbye anyway, clearly planning on guarding the bathroom door until Peggy is done with her monstrosity. Hercules also stays but Kitty decides to go too. Meade just looks conflicted.

Later, as I sit in class, I think about my previous conversation with Laurens. I know I want to know more but _what_ exactly is that more I want to dig out from under his walls? His goals? Morals? Love life? Freaking hobbies?

Everything, I guess.

Once I start something I can't seem to stop, damnit.

I hope this doesn't sound like Laurens is my new project, though to some level he might be. I wanted to know if he really was how people in this school claimed, but now I just want to know who _John Laurens_ is. Doesn't sound like there's much difference, maybe there isn't and the gap only exists in the world of my head. But the goal changed either way, whenever I like it or no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally came up with the ship Eliza x Kitty as I wrote this—


	4. Warm in my Friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seem like Hamilton is getting into John a little too fast, and you aren't wrong. But that's completely intentional. I see Hamilton as a man who fell in love too quick and out of it just as fast. Of course, there are exceptions to this rule, mainly John and Eliza. I think it might have been because neither of them was easy to woo? Anyway, I'm going off a tangent, point is, Hamilton getting into John this fast is completely intentional and this story is still meant to be a slow burn. You can continue reading now!

Recently I figured out John Laurens lives just a few streets away from me, on the most expensive part of the neighborhood. And no, I did _not_ stalk him home. It was actually a coincidence that I bumped into him in my way home. Now, we walk together almost every day after school, I guess I could even sort of consider Laurens a friend. He's not quite an acquaintance anymore after all, and I would even dare to say he's warming up to me. I can tell he's still skeptical, but it's one step closer then we were before.

The closer I get to John, the more I can see the fire within him. And sometimes, I really wouldn't mind being burned by it.

"You see," I say. "The thing about minimum wage is that raising it would be good, great even. But undesirable consequences will happen as a cause of it,"

"Just like everything," Laurens says; I nod.

"Exactly, so it's important to consider if those negative effects are really worth it. _I_ think they would, I mean not only would it benefit the workers but the nation as a whole, economic activity will grow and poverty would be reduced," Laurens hums like he's mostly in agreement but not quite.

"But unemployment rates will grow too, which will cause more poverty," He says. "It would especially affect the poorer areas of the country,"

"But crime rates would go down,"

"Not really,"

"Kind of," Laurens shrugs.

"Bottom line is, some people would benefit from the minimum wage being raised, while to others it would be the contrary. I, for one, am not quite sure it would be worth it. Maybe, but—"

Now, I would've loved to let John finish that sentence. But from the corner of my eye, I see a familiar bald head that I recognize as Aaron Burr. I have a brief moment of panic, I'm conscious that Burr isn't aware of any of my high school affairs and most likely doesn't even know who John Laurens is, but the anxious part of my brain tells me that he could tell Lafayette. If Lafayette knew, that would mean I wouldn't be able to see John Laurens anymore, to speak to him and get to know him better. I'd be grounded for centuries. I _can't_ afford that, not now.

And so, still on that moment of panic, I grab Laurens' wrist and drag him away from the street, our feet tumbling together in the hurry. We end up in the neighborhood's park, more specifically behind a tree. I lean back against it and John asks what the hell did just happen, which is understandable considering it almost seemed like I was kidnapping him, but I stay silent and avoid his glare until I'm sure Aaron Burr is not around anymore.

I release his wrist and sigh.

"What the hell was that?" He asks once again, I turn my face to him and my eyes meet with his. I can not get over how dazzling his eyes look. They're almond shaped and sport some slight eye bags under them. Most of the time his eyes are hazel, but there are occasions in which they resemble more a kaleidoscope: looking a little amber, sort of green, kind of gray, and anything. I've always been a loyal fan of dark eyes, but for John, I might make an exception.

"I should probably explain myself, right?" John raises a single eyebrow, which gives kind of a comical feel to the situation.

"I'm not ashamed of you by any means, John Laurens, _really_. But I can't let people see us together,"

Laurens doesn't look phased by this, and if he felt anything he did a good job hiding it. "I guessed as much,"

"I saw Aaron, that's my foster brother, just on the corner of the street and this was the first thing that I could come up with. I- sorry for this whole thing," I start picking at my nails. _This_ is why I usually wear nail polish. "You should probably go,"

I expect John Laurens to leave, but I've clearly learnt nothing about him yet because instead he sits down on the grass next to me and takes his phone out. I settle next to him almost hesitantly.

"You're paranoid, Hamilton,"

"I know," He grins at me while offering me a headphone.

" _And_ you look like you could use some good music,"

I take the headphone. I put it on and expect it to be a TØP song or something of the sort, but instead, my ears are met with a softer kind of music. I turn to him with a borderline confused expression.

"I didn't know you liked soft rock,"

"I do," He confirms. "There are many things you don't know about me, Hamilton"

I kind of want to lean against him, to press my slim body against his strong arm and enjoy the warmth of his chest. But I don't know how John would react to that. So I settle for scooting closer to him instead, hoping he doesn't find it too weird.

_Lady, when you're with me I'm smiling_

_Give me all your love_

_Your hands build me up when I'm sinking_

_Just touch me and my troubles all  fade_

_Lady, from the moment I saw you_

_Standing all alone_

_You gave all the love that I needed_

_So shy, like a child who has grown_

 

                          •••

 

"Since when do you listen to this old bands?" Peggy questions me after stealing my headphone.

"I'll have you know I have a very varied music taste and you don't know everything I listen to," She scoffs.

"Most of the time you listen to rap and reggae," I shrug.

"And? That doesn't mean I can't listen to other things," Peggy tries to raise a single eyebrow but ends up raising both. She's still working on it.

"Whatever you say, knight of the bedroom,"

"Oh my god, Peggy, literally just let that joke go—"

 


	5. A Pair of Caring Hypocrites

 

"What the _hell_ happened to your face?"

"What does it look like, Alexander?"

After texting Lafayette I am supposedly on my way home, I walked to the side of the school where John usually plays with Brutus after class. I expected to see him either laying on the grass petting him or playing fetch, which is exactly what I found. The only thing that I had not been expecting was John's face to be covered in purple bruises.

I may not exactly love his excessive amount of freckles, but I'd choose them any day over bruises.

"It looks like you were being an idiot," I huff as I sit down next to him. I'm not sure if John and I are on the friendship level that allows insults yet, but whatever, he _was_ being an idiot. "Did the fight have a purpose?"

"Define _purpose_ ," He avoided the question and threw a stick for Brutus to chase.

"I already did it once, not doing it again," I stared at him for a moment. "You're a hypocrite,"

"Consider me guilty," He sighed, me being clearly the only one concerned about his well-being right now.

"Why?" I insisted.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. "Why do you care?"

I scoffed. " _Because_ —" I started.

But honestly,

_Why_ do I care?

Because he's John Laurens, I guess. A beautiful borderline enigma I unintentionally found myself being fond of.

This was _not_ part of the plan, and I'm not sure if I like it.

"I thought so," He says. In a sudden move, I turn to him and grab his shoulders in annoyance.

"I care because I consider you my friend," I say, making sure he's looking at me in the eye. "And I don't like seeing you getting hurt for stupid shit,"

John stares at me, looking kinda confused. Like the words I said didn't quite register in his brain. Eventually, he sighs and looks away. "I get into fights when I'm... not feeling _great_ , I guess. It's a coping method, a shitty one that is, but it works,"

"That's not healthy, John," I tell him like the hypocrite I am. We're both hypocrites.

John half scoffs, half snorts as an answer.

I've never heard John do anything remotely close to a snort before and it is the cutest sound I've ever—

Shit. No. Stop.

_Focus_.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I awkwardly ask. He shrugs.

"Keep talking to me, I guess,"

"What?"

"Haven't you noticed, Alexander?" He avoids my eyes as Brutus comes back, expecting the stick to be thrown again. "You're the only person I talk to,"

"That's because other people are stupid," I say impulsively. "You're not nearly as bad as people make it seem,"

He half smiles at me, his thin lips stretching just enough for a curved line to show and his teeth to be partially exposed.

"Thanks," Is all he says. There's a hint of awkwardness in his voice. But that's okay, I feel awkward too. Just that unlike many other times, I don't want to dig a hole right where I'm sitting and bury myself underground.

No. If it means talking with John, I'll endure all the awkwardness teenage angst has to throw at me.

"We should exchange numbers," I say after a while of silence, accidentally startling John.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

Laurens laughs lightly and mumbles something I can't make out. "Maybe,"

"Maybe?"

He shrugs with a smile. "I'll think about it,"

"You make it sound like I'm asking you on a date, Laurens," I joke. For a second, I see John's body get tense, but it goes away just as quickly.

"You wish. I'm way out of your league," He jokes back, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

I wanna say something, but when I look at my phone I know it's time for me to go home. I don't wanna risk Lafayette arriving before me. That would cause _problems_.

After a few minutes of stalling, I say goodbye and start walking to Thomas' house. I asked John if he wanted to walk with me, but he declined.

I have the feeling he won't be going home for a while.

•••

The next day I find a piece of ripped off paper and in it a phone number written in messy but somehow still fancy looking handwriting. I can't help the smile that forms on my lips when I see it. I don't know why I feel so giddy.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: I knew who wouldn't be able to resist the offer**

**Unknown Number: I hope you know you're gonna regret this**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'll have you know I never regret anything**

**Unknown Number: Good thing there's a first time for everything**

 

I laugh and save his number as "Angie", assuming Lafayette would think it's Angelica. Hopefully, I won't get confused and tap "My Dearest, Sister" instead of "Angie", now _that'd_ be undesirably awkward.

If Lafayette were to glance at my phone and see I'm talking with John Laurens, he'd absolutely freak out and take my phone away to throw it at Laurens or something along those lines. In short, I'm only avoiding a catastrophe. I don't enjoy keeping secrets from Lafayette, but I want this. I want John and his silly jokes, his eloquent arguments, his random facts that leave me gagging most times.

I _want_ this. What Lafayette doesn't know, won't hurt him, anyway.

 


	6. Curiosity Killed the Cat

 

I feel like I _should_ be regretting ever offering John to exchange phone numbers, but I don't. In fact, I can't help but wait with excitement the random shit John comes up in the middle of the night.

It is 12:36 a.m and I find myself staring at my phone, reading over and over again the message John just sent.

 

**Angie: Did you know a Blue Whale's tongue can weigh as much as an elephant?**

 

What the fuck.

First of all, that single thought is more unsettling that it might seem. It implies how uselessly small us humans are in this world. And while in here, we are small and elephants are big and blue whales are bigger, blue whales are still insignificantly tiny in comparison to the vast endlessness of this universe. We're nothing but a microscopic cell inside something bigger, so much bigger that our human minds can't even begin to comprehend it.

Second of all, why is John thinking of blue whales in the middle of the night?

I mean, I don't really have the right to judge. I'm literally contemplating the vastness of this universe and how insignificant our existence as humans is right now. But I still can't help but be curious.

I shake my second set of thoughts aside and send John my borderline senseless ravings.

Will he mind?

I don't think he'll enjoy my incoherent midnight thoughts, but it's too late to regret taping send.

I _hope_ he doesn't mind. I managed to convince him to give me his number, I don't wanna fuck that up n—

 

**Angie: And that's just within /this/ universe. Whatever there is beyond black holes or even other universes, if the multiverse theory is indeed true, is beyond what our brains can formulate. After all, the infinity of space just like the depths of the ocean are not made for human eyes**

 

•••

 

"Why do you look like you got chased by a bloodthirsty hoard of zombies all night long until the exhaustion and hunger made you fall asleep right there were you stood and the zombies slowly ate every part of your body and soul?"

"That was _way_ too descriptive for a middle schooler. Burr, what the heck are you showing this child?"

"The Walking Dead,"

"Shame on you,"

"You still haven't answered my question," Maria interfered. "You look more sleep deprived than _usual_ ,"

Oh, for nothing. I simply spend most of last night contemplating life with John Laurens. In the end, coming to the conclusion that I really like having him in mine, even though I didn't tell him that.

"Couldn't sleep," I vaguely say instead. Immediately, Lafayette gasps.

" _Mon Alexandre_!" He exclaims. "Are you having nightmares again!?"

"No, it's just insomnia," I say. He still looks worried.

"Are you _sûr_?"

"Positive."

I can't help but feel guilty about worrying Lafayette, but at the end of the day, he'd only get _more_ worried if he knew I'm speaking with John Laurens. So I guess it's not as bad.

Right?

Yeah, I'm good.

 

•••

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Hey, are you coming?**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'm on the same spot as always**

**Alexander Hamilton: Are you gonna stay until late today?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Hello???**

 

I sigh and sit down on the school's front stairs. I guess John isn't walking with me today. He doesn't always answer my texts, he's one of _those_ people, and it annoys me to no end. I try to not show it but unfortunately, I am prone to wearing my heart on my sleeve on situations such as this one. I've also been told I can be clingy, but I prefer the term _caring_. Bottom line is, I wish John would text back a little more often. Maybe I am expecting too much from him? After all, he's so private and cautious. But, I don't know. Even after all these weeks, I can't understand John's brain.

What I'd give to get a look at his soul.

Besides me a pair of girls walk by wearing what I call the "gossip face" and I immediately pretend I'm paying more attention to my phone that I actually am.

Okay, so maybe I am a little nosy, but can you blame me? Nothing interesting ever happens in my life anymore, gossip gives me the amusements my daily shenanigans lack. _Sue.me._

"Okay, but did you hear what Laurens did now?" One of the girls said. The other one sighed tiredly.

"No. You know I'm not up to date with this sort of shit, Karen,"

"So I heard from Anna—"

"Yeah cause she's reliable"

"—that Laurens punched a guy on the face, you know the tall one from sixth period?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, that one. He punched him in the face cause he said something about gay people and Laurens got so pissed, girl. Like, he didn't even say anything he just stood up like "wassup bitch" and socked him in the face. It was _so_ dramatic,"

"According to Anna,"

"According to Anna," She agreed. "Why do you think he did it!?"

"The fuck do I know, maybe he's gay?"

"That would explain why he's so weird, lol,"

This wasn't as fun to hear as I initially thought. It's not fair, that John is such an amazing person but because people don't care to see beyond that, _this_ is what he gets. The shitty gossip and no friends. It's not fair, and I hate it.

But, now that I think about it, _what_ does John like? I mean, the thought has briefly crossed my mind before, but I've never really considered it. It's kinda shitty that I'm only questioning this because of some trashy gossip, but as I've said many times before, curiosity is a flaw of mine.

What does John like?

I walked home with that thought in my head.

 


	7. Lucky Charms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Doc” Is Edward/Neddie  
> “WigSnatched” Is Eliza

 

**Angie: What do you mean you got grounded by your /brother/?**

**Alexander Hamilton: I forgot to text him I arrived home so he got like really worried and thought I had been sold to the mafia or some shit. Now I'm not allowed to eat the marshmallows in the Lucky Charms anymore. Which is bullshit to be honest. IT'S JUST LUCKY CHARMS!!**

This is what I get for thinking about John and calculating the chances of him ever being attracted to, let's say, me. For research purposes, of course.

**Angie: And your parents are just okay with that?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Legal guardian, and Thomas doesn't really care as long as we don't actually fight and hurt each other**

He took a bit longer to answer this time.

**Angie: Well that's not fair for you**

**Alexander Hamilton: Funny that /you/ out of all people say that**

**Angie: What do you mean?  
**

**Alexander Hamilton: Aren't you the oldest brother?  
**

**Angie: Yeah  
**

**Angie: And?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Exactly.**

Another moment.

**Angie: Point taken**

I hear a sudden commotion going on in the kitchen which I know it's Lafayette. I sigh, knowing that I'll have to end the conversation here.

**Alexander Hamilton: Gtg, I'm about to get scolded dkdjkksjs**

" _Alexandre_!" I hear him calling me from the kitchen. I stuff my phone in my pocket and walk out of my room, knowing exactly what he wants.

In the kitchen I see Lafayette holding the box of Lucky Charms with a knowing look on his face. He almost looks like he's disappointed, which he actually most likely is.

"I cannot believe you," He says when he sees me, shaking his head.

"What do you mean?" I bullshit.

"You ate the Lucky Charm marshmallows after I told you to not! _All of them!_ " He says, raising his voice enough to show he's not happy but still low enough for it to not be a scream.

"You're not my dad, Gilbert," I sigh.

"Do you know how much _j'étais si inquiète_ yesterday!?" He ignores me as he keeps ranting. "I thought something had happened to you!" He starts counting with his fingers. "You could've gotten mugged, hit by a car, kidnapped, sold to human traffic, raped—"

"I can take care of myself. I've been fine on my own for years. My mom died already, I don't need another one," I say in a clearly annoyed tone. He gasps, offended.

"I am only trying to look out for you," Lafayette claims as he holds the box of Lucky Charms (now without marshmallows) against his chest.

I scoff. "And you think forbidding me from eating the Lucky Charms marshmallows will change anything?"

" _Oui!_ It should have taught you a lesson, but you clearly did not care enough,"

I roll my eyes, this is getting ridiculous. In fact, this was ridiculous from the very beginning. It was just a stupid text. It was just _Lucky Charms!_

"You know what," I decide. "Fuck this, I'm not doing this now, you're having one of your weird "older" brother attacks,"

" _Excusez moi!?_ "

"Talk to me once you're done mourning the marshmallows," I scoff once again and turn on my heel to leave, but just then my phone buzzes. And I know for a fact it's John responding. I pray to whatever deities are out there that Lafayette is too busy being offended to notice, but I guess I'm not as lucky as I think I am.

"Who is that?" He says. I roll my eyes.

"Nobody of your concern," I respond for some stupid reason instead of simply saying "probably just Angelica". Curse my pettiness and hot-headedness.

"Give me your phone,"

"Like _fuck_ I'm gonna do that,"

"Alexander, give me your phone. What are you hiding from me!?" He leaves the Lucky Charms box on the table and starts walking toward me. I slowly start stepping backwards.

"I said nothing of your concern,"

"Nothing of my _concern_!? You have done nothing but worry me today, Alexandre! Give me your phone, I just want to make sure you're safe,"

Yeah, that's not gonna happen.

"Goodbye, Lafayette," I singsong as I grab my keys and head to the door.

"W–What!? It's almost seven p.m. Alexandre, you cannot go out!"

I stop to glare at him for a moment before I close the door. " _Watch me,_ "

I slam it close just to make a petty show of it and take out my phone as I sprint away from the house, knowing Lafayette probably won't hesitate to follow me.

**Angie: Good luck, dumbass**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'm coming over, can you send your address?**

**Alexander Hamilton: If that's okay with you**

**Angie: Alexander, my family is here!**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'll just climb your window like a creepy 80's movie. I'll be quiet, I promise**

**Angie: I'm looking at my phone very skeptically rn  
**

**Angie: "I'll be quiet"  
**

**Alexander Hamilton: Okay, yeah, I know I'm known for never shutting up**

**Alexander Hamilton: But**

**Alexander Hamilton: Please**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'll behave, daddy**

  **Angie: /S t o p/**

He takes a few minutes to respond. I was already considering just crashing at the Schuyler's or maybe Kitty's, but then he replies, which I have to admit actually surprised me.

**Angie: Alright, I'll send you the address**

**Angie: But don't make noise, please**

**Alexander Hamilton: THANK YOU, THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOU**

**Angie: Yeah, yeah**

 

•••

 

I shouldn't have been surprised when I saw John's house. I knew he came from money, and that his house is located on the richer side of the neighborhood. And yet I still can't keep myself from staring at it, dumbfounded, for a few seconds.

It is wide and at least there are stories tall, all painted a pale yellow with white details on the windows and such. Around it there's a huge, well-tended garden with plants of every color and shape and even what it seems like a few crops. In the center of it there's a large tree with branches that keep extending sideways until they cast an enormous shadow down on the ground. Nobody seems to be around, but I can see the lights are still on, meaning they're still awake. Obviously, it's just past seven. 

I walk toward the side of the house and see that besides the window John told me belongs to his room there's a smaller, thinner, but still easily climbable tree. I can perfectly imagine a tiny John Laurens escalating up to the highest branch just to get scolded for doing so.

 

"Well," I tell myself. "Guess I'm doing this,"

 

I look around anxiously for a second, double checking that there really isn't anyone around. The last thing I need is getting arrested for breaking and entering. After confirming it's just me and myself (and the tree) I step forward and grab a branch, checking it's strong enough to hold my weigh. I do the same thing with every single branch I climb, another thing I don't need is a broken leg. Eventually, I reach what's almost the top, right beside John's window. I peak in and immediately see, sitting on his bed, John Laurens doing what it seems to be painting.

I tap the window and instead of looking startled like the protagonist of a cheesy movie usually would, John carries his eyes away from the canvas and toward me. He looks likes he's thinking "oh, look, a gremlin," or something along those lines. He mouths "it's open" (or at least I hope that's what he mouthed. Only around 30% of English speech is understandable through the lips so I hope my brain didn't fuck up).

Upon further inspection (aka trying to open the window), I find out I was actually correct. I fall into John's bed and immediately look at him with a sheepish grin.

"Very slick, Hamilton," He says sarcastically.

"Oh shut up, you look like a mess,"

And he does. Look like a mess that is. And endearing mess. He has a blue paint splatter on his cheek and on his lip. For a second I wonder how that would taste like before mentally scolding myself for my dumbass thoughts. To think I'm _supposed_ to be smart. There are also hints of what I'm guessing is also paint on his hair and on his hands. His hands and arms are almost completely covered in an array of different colors, and the hints of flesh noticeable between the acrylics are tainted with charcoal.

"It's just when I'm paintin'," He defends himself and I raise my brows, looking at the bruise still present around his eye. _Yeah, right._

"Whatever you say," I mumble under my breath before completely changing my tone. "So, whatcha drawing?" 

He hesitates before answering. His hazel eyes stay glued on whatever is there on the canvas, and he looks so sad for a single second that I just want to kiss his forehead and give him all the happiness I cannot give myself.

"My mom," He ends up saying. "She's– uh, here,” 

Before I could say anything he puts the canvas on my hands, almost like he's shoving it but it's a little too gentle to be described as such. There on the hard paper is an unfinished drawing of a blue woman with freckles made of starts and caring arms that hug the world. John's world.

Who would've ever thought such a stupidly reckless, hotheaded smartass could be callable of creating such a tender piece of art. Just by looking at it I'm overcome with the feeling of yearning for a hug. And this is the unfinished version.

I am no art critic, but this is the type of painting that should be in the place of radical pink apples on white backgrounds with way too hidden meanings. This is the type of art that should be admired by all and spoken about for centuries, the type of art that makes you _feel_ rather than think.

"John, this is—"

 "It's pretty messy and the colors are off, I know, but I'm still working on it," Ge cuts me off with a voice that sounds like gravel and shrugging shoulders.

"I was gonna say it is literally the best thing I've ever seen in my entire life," I deadpan and he looks at me like I'm saying this out of pity, like he's thinking "it's nice that you're trying", and I can't help but feel kind of offended. 

"Thanks." He says instead, and puts the painting away like he's done with it for the moment.

"I bet your mother is an amazing lady," I say but he simply nods, starting to put his materials away.

As he pushes his mess of art materials out of the way and into the bed's corner my phone starts buzzing, and I get the weird feeling that there's a Lafayette-lead patrol looking for me. Taking advantage of the fact that John isn't looking and therefore I won't look rude I take my phone out and look at the messages.

**Doc: Idk what's going in between you and Laf again but he's freaking out**

**Doc: You should probably come bacK**

**Doc: Please? I don't like seeing you guys like this**

I check the other chat.

**WigSnatched: Alex please call Lafayette back, he's worried as fuck and he's getting everyone worried too**

**WigSnatched: At least let us know you haven't been abducted by aliens**

**Alexander Hamilton: Still alive, Liz. Tell Gilbert to not worry, I'm staying at someone's**

**WigSnatched: Who?**

**WigSnatched: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**Alexander Hamilton: kdmdksjdnnsns shut up you perv**

Then there are several phone calls and voice messages from Lafayette. I decide to listen to them later. 

"So," John says. "What do you want to do?"

You, if I'm being honest with myself.

 "Are those UNO cards on your table, Laurens?" I say with a challenging smirk instead. 

A tiny flame lights up in his eyes.

"Oh, you're on, Hamilton."

 

 


	8. Bubbles

 

As John picks the UNO cards and returns them to their little red box (I won, by the way. John's a worthy adversary but a _little_ too impulsive for UNO) I notice he keeps sparing me brief glances. I want to believe it's because he likes me, because he finds me attractive, because... I don't know (or rather, I'd prefer to not admit it for the time being). It doesn't matter either way, because from the look on his eyes can I already tell what he wants, and _me_ isn't the answer. He wants to ask something, which is understandable considering I pretty much crashed at his place without giving an explanation or even a cheap excuse.

"I know you wanna ask," I tell him. He shrugs.

"So what if I did? Would you respond truthfully?"

I put a hand dramatically on my chest. "You doubt my honesty, Laurens?"

He smirks. "A little," John says, almost teasingly. My eyes unintentionally wander down to his Cupid bow lips and I will them to look up again just as quick.

"Well," I sigh and throw myself on John's bed completely, his sheets feeling softer than any other blanket that has ever touched my skin before. "My brother found out I ate the rest of the lucky charms,"

"You're a little shit," He comments. I nod and go on.

"And he got like real angry, we got into this stupid argument and I ended up walking out," I narrate, leaving out the part in which Lafayette wanted to take my phone. "It was just... ridiculous. I don't have time to deal with that shit, y'know,"

"I get that you wanted to cool down, but maybe leaving the house was a little too much. After all, he was already worried as it was," John says and then pauses for a moment. "Though I can't really blame you, I probably would've done the same," He admits, I smile.

"See? You understand me. This is why we're friends," I smile at him as he puts the box of UNO cards back on his bedside table. He throws himself beside me and we both stare at his ceiling. It is painted like a night sky, the type that you can't see here in the city, but have to travel miles into the country to be able to admire. John's art has a weird effect on me, like it speaks directly into my ear, and this ceiling just tells me "melancholy".

"Sometimes..." I start carefully, feeling my phone vibrating in my pocket. It's been like that for a while now, but regardless of how much I love my friends and family, I don't want to deal with that now. I want to imagine it's just me and John under a sky of fake stars. "I feel like you're the only person in this world I don't hate,"

"I _know_ you're definitely one of the few people in this world I don't hate," John says and I move my head toward him. He's already looking at me with those dark hazel eyes of his. They say a thousand words I cannot understand.

We stare at each other for a long time and somehow, it doesn't feel awkward. It feels like we're in a bubble and there's nobody to hate because it's just John and me in this world. And that's okay.

I remain in that bubble until I have to leave.

 

•••

 

It is almost midnight by the time I sneak out of John's house and into Stevens'. I push the door open as quietly as I can, and close it on that same manner. I find myself tiptoeing my way to my room and it is at times time this that I wish I could be as stealthy as a cat. Any type of cat, to be honest, from big hunters to lazy companions. They all have a tremendous ability to sneak around and ambush both preys and toys.

Thinking I'm finally safe, I open my door and gently turn on the light. It is exactly how I left it, only that Lafayette is asleep on top of my green covers.

I sigh. "You idiot," 

I make my way to the bed and gently try to shake him awake; he does nothing but twitch a little. He's probably been here for a few hours.

"Gilbert," I say, shaking him a little rougher. "C'mon, wake up,"

Slowly his amber eyes blink open and he stares at my face for a few seconds, though he doesn't seem to notice me at first. He looks tired, like the electricity on his heart was temporality taken out. His big puff of hair is trapped on a messy bun rather than on an elegant ponytail as it usually would, and besides his lip is a kinda gross trail of now dry drool.

"Hammie?" Lafayette asks after a few seconds. I nod and his eyes suddenly open widely. "Alexandre!" He exclaims, like he's just now realizing it's me.

He pulls me down into a tight hug and traps me on his lean muscular arms. I don't resist, but I don't hug back either.

"Are you _bien_?" He asks on my hair. I give a little nod.

"Yeah, I stayed at a friend's house,"

"Who's?"

"Hercules," I immediately lie, sort of having rehearsed this on my way here. Though I thought I wouldn't have to use it until morning.

He nods like I made a smart decision, even though Hercules' house is pretty much a war zone. But Lafayette trusts him anyway. He pulls away but leaves his hands on my shoulders, keeping me close to him. "I am sorry," He says, and I don't physically react. "I may have... overreacted. I just– I know you can take care of yourself, Hammie, but I still cannot help but worry. The— the world is not as kind as you are. I just want you to be happy,"

I raise my eyes to meet his and sigh, I can't really stay mad at him, can I? "I forgive you. And I'm sorry too, for making you worry even more," I say, remembering John's words. "I was being a little shit,"

He smiles. "When are you _not_ being a little shit?"

"Hey!" I gently push him away. "Don't act as if you're not a little shit too!"

" _Moi!?_ " He exclaims like I just accused him of the most blasphemous sin. I nod with an "I'm right and you know it" face.

"Well, perhaps, but you still take the trophy, Hammie," He concludes and we both laugh on an otherwise completely silent house.

The petty fight is officially over. Things are back to where they're meant to be.

 


	9. Dreamer Boy

 

Right now, I feel like my skin has been suddenly replaced with magnets and John is my polar opposite.

As I stare at him, eating all alone on a table in the corner of the crowded cafeteria, I want to do nothing more than carry him in my arms (which would realistically be most likely physically impossible. To put it simply: I'm a skinny French fry and John is a hot baked potato) and bring him here. I want to talk to him and I want my friends who I'm sitting with so see how fucking extraordinary he is. I don't want them to see him as a heartless jerk, and I don't want him to be sitting alone in such a big room. More than anything I just want him right here by my side, sitting so close to me I can feel the heat coming from his spotted skin. I miss him. I can't wait for the last bell of the day to ring so I can run straight toward him faster than a cheetah which he told me can run up to 75 miles per hour (metaphorically speaking, of course. We're _way_ slicker than that, thank you very much).

My fingers unconsciously tap against the table over and over again, maybe I should stop staring at John. I mean, I'm literally in a table surrounded by a bunch of people who could easily notice who I'm looking at simply by following my gaze and as I've previously established, I _cannot_ let people know that we're friends, let alone that I'm low-key crushing on him. It kinda feels like a Romeo  & Juliet-ish kind of forbidden relationship. (Only that Romeo and Juliet wasn't actually meant to be read as a love story but as a critique toward society and romance and the childishness of it all).

I tear my eyes from him. It almost hurts.

Goddamn, why does he have to have such a beautiful face?

I force my ears to sync back into the conversation and from what I could gather in a few seconds, my dearest friends are having a rather intense debate discussing whenever or no Sponge Bob has lips.

Idiots, of course he has lips.

"See!?" Kitty shrieks as she practically shoves her phone on Hercules' face, an image of Sponge Bob with lips on the screen.

Told you so.

"Dude, no, you see," Hercules insists. "Those ain't _actually_ lips," And so he launches himself on an explanation to support his very much flawed logic.

I bet that if John was here he would agree with me.

Shit, wait, what am I doing? Comparing John to my other friends isn't something I wanna start doing. Nope. It feels wrong, like I'm putting them all on a non-existent contest. They're all great in their own ways and that's that.

(Or maybe it's the fact that I know that if this were indeed a contest, John would probably win. When did this happen?)

Unintentionally my eyes drift toward him once again. He looks like a masterpiece, like a portrait done on Picasso's blue period.

I wish I could suck all of the sadness that surrounds him away and throw it away inside a bottle and into the ocean. (Not literally, John would literally kill me if I tried anything that involves polluting the ocean). I wish I could crack his head open and see what's always bothering him underneath that thick layer of walls, what makes him carry eye-bags everywhere he goes and fight people.

I wish I could make John happy, in a way.

I guess that's what I wish the most.

 

•••

 

As soon as the bell rings I send Lafayette a text saying I'm on my way home (aka lies) and head straight toward the back of the school. As always, the place is deserted, only things there being a tree and a trash dumpster. John isn't here yet. That's alright.

I lay in the soft grass facing toward the sky with my eyes closed. I don't know when, but this place has started to feel homey in a way to me. It's John's and I's bubble.

Suddenly I hear loud barking coming from behind me and I don't even need to open my eyes to know it's Brutus and with him, John.

"Hey," I hear him say, his voice deep and husky like a thick layer of honey.

"Hey," I respond, opening one eye to look at him. He almost looks like an angel surrounded by so much light. I notice his eyes drifting down toward my lips before willing them up once again after half a second.

Am I imagining things?

He sits beside me, too far away for my liking (even though he's right by my side) and Brutus follows, laying down on the grass while munching a piece of ham. His snout is scrunched and I can see his yellow teeth sinking on the meat. Brutus really is an ugly dog, but I can't say he hasn't earned a place in my heart.

John looks at me like he can tell what I'm thinking. He probably can, if you spend enough time with me you'll notice my face is an open book of emotions. He raises a brow at me and I stick my tongue out mockingly. He half-scoffs and half-laughs. I love it that we can be like...

Like _this_.

"What's your favorite food?" I ask randomly. He doesn't even blink, I guess we have gotten used to each other's weird shit, my random questions being one of them. After all, my quest to learn who John Laurens is isn't over yet.

"Spaghetti with tofu. You?" He responds without missing a beat.

"New York pizza," I say after pretending to think for a while. He snorts and throws a pencil he had on his hair at me.

"You're so basic, Hamilton," He says in a dramatic tone.

"That makes two of us, Mr. Pumpkin Spice Late,"

"Yeah, make fun of my _good_ taste, Mr. Black Coffee," He copies me.

I sit up and shove him away playfully (May I mention his chest is as firm as a rock? Because _damn_ ). He shoves me right back and I notice his hands are still littered with paint, way less than the mess of colors in them last night but I can still see splatters of blues and greens on his fingers. I think back to the painting he was working on last night, of the blue woman embracing the world.

"Why?" I ask before I can organize my thoughts correctly and ask an actual question. He makes a confused noise and cocks his head to the side in the cutest way.

"I mean," I hurry to explain myself. "The painting you were working on last night, of your mom. She's blue in there, is there a reason? I mean, there doesn't have to be, I'm just curious. I don't know if you're the type of person to put symbolism on _everything_ or just do stuff because you want to, though you kinda seem like the second option? Anyway, yeah, just asking," By the time I finish my ramble I notice something changed in John's eyes. He looks exactly the same but his eyes, they look... different, I guess.

They remind me of my own eyes, years ago.

"Well..." He starts hesitantly. "It's because she's my world, and so I draw her as the galaxy," He says, but I can tell there are many words left unsaid. I don't push it.

I put my hand on his bicep, trying to give him some kind of comfort, I guess. He looks at me in the eyes and half-smiles.

If I were a painter, I would draw John as the world.

 


	10. Gold

 

You know what's unfair? To send the underweight kid without a car to buy groceries. Aka ME. This is what I get for eating all of Thomas' Lucky Charm marshmallows (the guy has a sugar addiction problem, I swear) I suppose, but it doesn't mean I can't bitch about it. And it's not only the fact that I have to buy groceries, but that my family has the single weirdest petitions. For example, Neddy wants pickles for some reason. Nobody in the house even eats pickles and yet I'm carrying a jar of those disgusting green things. Why? I don't know! And don't even let me get started on Burr's questionable ice cream flavor choices. 

I'm probably just annoyed because John hasn't answered my texts since yesterday. 

Okay, it's most likely both things.

As I waddle down a street of slightly expensive houses, I really wish I was an octopus (preferably a Giant Pacific Octopus, which John told me are the biggest species alive). That way I'd have more arms (Fun Fact: Octopuses have arms, not tentacles. John is my source for that) and I wouldn't have to carry a bazillion bags with my skinny noodle arms, which are unfortunately only two.

How different would society be if we had more arms?

Before I can spiral down the lane of random thought, I hear giggling not so far away from where I stand and unconsciously my eyes wander toward the direction of the noise.

There, in the neighborhood's park, is John. He's sitting down on one of the benches, his back facing toward me, but I could recognize that mess of curls and that white denim jacket the bought last week with the excuse that it would be easy to keep clean anywhere. Around him, there are three mini Johns. There's tiny John, even tinier girl John, and less John-like but still pretty John-ish medium John.

Damn, I didn't know Laurens had _that_ many siblings.

They're giggling and jumping around and overall being a low key hazard to anyone that might approach but John doesn't seem to mind, he sits there with his shoulders lose and his head resting on one of them. He sort of looks like a lumpy sack of potatoes, like a rag doll. It's like seeing a dried out version of the John I like to think I know.

 "Jack, Jack!" Tinnier girl John shrieks as she jumps up and down. She looks like she has a trampoline on each shoe. "Is it true that mom had golden eyes?"

 I can't see John's (as if, the actual John) face. But he waits a few sluggish seconds before he says in the softest voice: "Mom's eyes... they were like a Prism. They could seem like so many colors at once, it's— it's hard to tell, but, sometimes when she looked upwards on a sunny day, it was like they became gold itself,"

  

•••

 

"I have arrived!" I gasp dramatically as I push the door open. Immediately I let the bags drop to the ground and fall right beside them just to make a show of it. No one in my family looks amused.

 "Thank you," Thomas says offhandedly as he grabs the bag with the Lucky Charms and leaves for the kitchen. He's probably going to put it right beside all the other sugar-filled things. 

"Do you have my pickles!?" Neddy screams from upstairs. I teasingly roll my eyes from my place on the floor (even if he can't see it).

"Yes, I do have your weird ass pickles, Neddy!" I screech.

Maria and Burr come and pick up their stuff too as I mutter theatrically about betrayal and death. But the little brunette at least said "Thanks" as she passed by. Finally, Lafayette approaches and grabs the France socks he asked for. Which is weird, because most of the flag-themed things he buys are usually related to America. 

"What's that for?" I ask as I sit up. He sits down beside me. 

"Well," He starts, unrolling the socks and trying them on his own feet. "Starting this Monday, _je_ will be joining _Club_ _Français_ ,"

"French Club?" I say. It was about time he changed clubs, knowing him. He nods enthusiastically and I know he's about to start monologuing.

"Yes, even though America is the love of my life, I do not want to forget the beautiful land _je_ was born in. I want to reconnect with my culture and go back to my roots, as a Frenchman," Lafayette concludes with a hand on his chest. I could tell he there was something else he wasn't telling me, but as long as he's happy (and as long as I can keep meeting up with John in the evenings) then he can do whatever he wants.

"Who's the leader of the club?" I ask as I finally begin to stand up, picking up the remaining bags and bringing them to the kitchen. Lafayette trails behind and as he spins to show off his French socks.

"Adrienne de Noailles," He sighs a little dreamily. I nod, trying to show interest. But to be honest I've never heard of that chick in my entire life.

"Well," I say. " _Amuse_ - _toi_ _bien_ , my friend,"

 

•••

 

I'm in the middle of watching _Pretty_ _Woman_ with Lafayette and Neddy when my phone dings in my pocket. And I know immediately it's John (it may have to do with the fact that I have a ringtone for him specifically). While pretending I still care about the movie, I take my phone out and unlock it.

"Who is that?" Lafayette asks without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Just Angelica," I mumble.

" _Shhhhhhh!_ " Neddy hisses and mindlessly smacks me in the head. "This is the best part!" He complains and I make the show of zipping my mouth and throwing away the key.

  

 **Angie:** **Fucking** **hate** **group** **projects**

 

I snort. Same.

 

 **Alexander** **Hamilton** : **What** **did** **the** **gremlins** **you** **got stuck with do?**

**Angie: Nothing**

**Angie: Which is the problem**

**Alexander Hamilton: Ouch**

**Alexander Hamilton: The project will probably be better if you do it yourself anyway**

I wanted to type more but stop myself before I do, because I know I'll probably end up writing things I don't want him to know yet.

 

**Angie: Hah.**

**Angie: Thanks for the encouragement**

**Angie: Its still shitty though. Like, this is a work for more than one person**

**Angie: And this assholes don't want to do anything because well**

**Angie: Because its me, yknow**

I scoff loudly at this. It baffles me how people can treat John like this. Like he isn't the most lovable little shit in the entire world. 

I almost keep forgetting I used to be one of those assholes too. 

But I at least can try to make it up. Because John Laurens deserves every bit of universe there is to give, and since I can't give him that, I'll give him what I can.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Fuck them**

**Alexander Hamilton: What's the project about???**

**Angie: Genetic diseases and all that Jazz**

I sigh (and ignore Neddy's glare) and resign myself. John Laurens is lucky I adore him because if there is something I loathe is god freaking Biology out of all subjects.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Count on me to help you kick ass on that project**

**Alexander Hamilton: Your asshole group mates will be crying when they see how great it turns out**

 


	11. Bitter Cherry

 

Over the last few days, I've been moving my position strategically on our lunch table to be able to see John from the perfect angle. Which, yeah it does sound kinda creepy, I'm aware, but if I'm not next to him at least I can provide him metal company by staring at him..? Does that make sense? (It doesn't, because it's just a cheap excuse. I just want to look at his handsome face without having to imitate a giraffe which by the way, can have necks as long as six feet according to John). From here in my new place besides Kitty and Meade I can even kinda see what he's eating.

And today's menu is spaghetti with tofu. I snort. Gross, I adore this weirdo.

As a stare at him, for a split second his hazel irises wander up and our eyes meet. I can faintly see his face gradually turning red which makes my heart do a little breakdance. To add a cherry on top of the cake, I wink at him before breaking eye contact.

What the fuck am I going?

Just as I start to panic, my phone buzzes in my pants and I feel like the air got locked inside my lungs. I can't exhale, I'm too scared of. Is it John? Did I make him uncomfortable? Angry? With a slightly trembling hand I reach for my cellphone and pull it out slowly, not really wanting to see the notification that will pop on in the screen. Eventually, after some more seconds of so very desired stalling, I turn the screen on and with the braves face I have, look at it.

_Oh_.

It's just Cornelia Lott (well isn't this awkward).

Cornelia is a girl from my literature class. She's as witty as a spark and fairly attractive, with eyes as dark as the nighttime ocean. Just my type. We exchanged numbers with intentions that couldn't exactly be classified as innocent but now I find myself writing to her less often every day. Honestly, I had sort of forgotten we were even friends (who flirted). I've never hesitated to start a fling with someone I like, but now I can't really find myself interested in her anymore. The sweet smelling candle flickered out and now only wax and the smell of smoke remain in its place.

And no matter how much deny it, excuse it, and ultimately despise it, I know it's because of John. Because of his smooth honey-like voice and golden brown skin. Because of his hazel eyes I'm usually not a fan of but he somehow has made me love. Because of his untamable curls and  sculpted arms and the way I know he could tower over me if he wanted. Because lately, I've been wanting John Laurens and nobody else.

A million incomparable beauties could pass before my eyes and I'd still be dazzled enough to consider John the most stunning of them all. I'm cursed, infected by the bittersweet poison that is attraction.

I settle by sending back a meager "Hi :)" and return my phone to my pocket, hoping Cornelia isn't feeling particularly chatty today.

Not wanting to risk my eyes to wander toward John once again, I decide to actually start listening what my friends are talking about, and smile because apparently Meade too has found a sweetheart by the name of Elizabeth Randolph (make that the third Elizabeth I know).

 

•••

 

As I approached the back of the school I sent Lafayette my usual text and pocketed it to probably not take it out for a while. I don't really have time for my phone when I'm with John, there's just so much to ramble about. When I got there I realized that unusually, John was already there. My step faltered slightly at the pleasant surprise but I kept on walking like a normal, functional human being.

"Hey, J!" I call him, the nickname slipping out of my tongue before I can even register it.

He turns toward me startled, as if he hadn't realized I was here. "Alexander," He breathed. Once second he was meters away, and the next time I was conscious of my surroundings I was on his arms. "Thank you," He mumbled.

"For what?" I ask as I bathe in the temporary bliss of being in his arms.

Gosh, this arms. If only he would wear tight shirts am I right?

"The project, I–" He steps away slightly and I internally mourn the loss of his embrace, but I get over it as soon as I see his smile, so big his dimples even poke out to say hi. " _We_ aced it."

I jump a little. "That's great! I told you, we make a wicked team,"

He hums. "We do," In that moment, his face relaxes and I pause for a second to take him in. The bruise from the fight he had still faintly circles his eye meanly, now accompanied by purple-ish eye bags. His curls brush against my face gently and from this close, his freckles even look kinda cute.

"You haven't been sleeping," I comment instead of reciting the prose building up in my chest. Without really meaning to, my hand drifts up and with my thump I caress the skin under his eyes so faintly the touch might still be there. But John still finches, and yet he makes no move to push me away.

"It's nothing," John says and I frown. What does he mean by nothing?

"If it's affecting you then it's _something_ ," I argue but he doesn't listen.

He makes an off handed comment like his health was no matter and pulls away, ending the moment (if it even was a moment at all. I might have imagined the entire exchange in my enamored delusions).

“I’m fine, Hamilton.” He says with an artificial smilie as he walks over Brutus, who’s wagging his tail contently, unaware of the tension. But I don’t believe John’s words or his lips.

 


	12. On The Edge

 

It's been seventeen hours since John last answered his phone. He also didn't show up to our "meetup" behind the school yesterday and I'm struggling to not think of every worst-case scenario possible in this situation. My thoughts range from him suddenly hating me to his unexpected and tragic death and everything in between those two. And so my knee won't stop bouncing like a freaking yoga ball under the lunch table as I try to act normal and pay attention to my dear friends.

"And like," Peggy continues her story as I internally crash and burn. "I _love_ sushi, okay. But I legit gagged when I tasted that shit,"

"I think fish eggs are pretty good," Meade says with a shrug, to which Peggy glances back at him with an utterly disgusted look on her face.

"It's called _roe_ ," Angelica points out and Meade waves her off, not really caring.

"Anyway," The freshman resumes. "So I had to run to the bathroom because I was not about puke all over the table, and so I stand up and—"

"And on her way there she ended up puking all over the hot waiter she had been ogling all night!" Eliza blurts out, not being able to help herself, and wheezes.

"Thanks, Eliza." Peggy grumbles with an embarrassed pout. I can tell that's not how she planning on phrasing it. Eliza winks at her between laughs.

"No problem, lil' sis," She says.

"Talking about hot people," Kitty says. "You know John Andre?"

We all nod simultaneously. Everyone knows about Andre, he's the school's pretty boy and damn I wouldn't have minded getting a piece of _that_ a while back.

"So from what I've heard his best friend got into a fight. Real nasty shit, apparently he has a broken wrist and everything,"

Lafayette winces. Meanwhile Peggy looks really interested. "Do tell, what was the fight about?" She says. For a second the possibility of John being involved crosses my mind but it can't be. Right?

Kitty shrugs. "Dunno, dude doesn't want to tell," 

"Well that's interesting," Hercules mumbles as he takes out his phone. I don't question what he's doing, Hercules has a record of figuring out shit about other people and so we just let him do his thing.

"When was this?" I find myself asking, hoping my ulterior motives won't be noticeable.

"Yesterday before last period I think," Kitty says, and my throat starts to feel dry.

"Whatever, we're missing the most important detail," Peggy says. "Who was the fight with?"

Kitty raises a brow like we should already know the answer. I know. I don't want to even think of the possibility but I _know_.

"John Laurens. Apparently he's to stay home today and tomorrow. So is Andre's friend,"

Without wanting to, I find myself suddenly standing up. My friends all look toward me started and I force myself to smile. "I just remembered I forgot my homework at home," I lie easily. "I'll be right back."

I grab my backpack and stomp my way toward the exit with clenching fists and my ears burning red. As I'm crossing the door I take my phone out and take a quick glance at it. Thirteen minutes of lunch left. That'll surely be enough time. Hopefully.  

Without a clear plan in mind, I leave the school and head straight toward John's house.

 

•••

 

In the end there's no need for me to go that far, because halfway through (and having four minutes until lunch ends) when I'm walking by the neighborhood's park I find the one and only star of the show: John Laurens. It was my intention to storm up at him and scolding his stupid _stupid_ ways of coping but I had to stop myself when I took a closer look at him.

He was sitting on a swing, covering his face with poorly stuck band-aids and purple knuckles. His hair was loose and framed his face like a dark veil of curls, tangled and unwashed. His clothes seemed like pajamas (fancy pajamas, mind you. But still pajamas nonetheless) and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down, not unlike mine a few minutes ago.

I change my pace entirely and slowly approach to him, like he's a bird who'll fly away at the faintest movement never to be seen again, until I'm in front of him. I can tell he's aware that someone is in front of him but shows no acknowledgment whatsoever. I crunch down to my knees and grab the chain handles of the swing for balance.

"John," I say in a low voice.

With a resigned sigh, he peels his hands away and looks at me. His face is a cluster of red cuts and bluish bruises that hide his occasionally cute freckles from me, his nose doesn't look broken but it is still slightly crooked, and the faint bruise that rested on of his eye has now been replaced by a much bigger, fresher one.

"Jesus, John," I gasp. "No offense but you look like shit,"

He smiles for half a second. "You should've seen the other guy," He mumbles.

I can't make myself laugh, so instead I stare at him, wishing I could heal all those wounds with a single kiss. He notices my stare and sighs once again.

"I'm sorry," He says.

"No you're not," I unintentionally snap. "You're not, because after this you'll probably just get into another fight. And then another. And then what happens when you find someone who's stronger than you!?" I ask. "Fuck, John, I don't want you to get hurt."

I can see the ” _I'm_ _sorry”_ curl on his lip before he stops himself. We both look at the ground in silence until he finally speaks. I admit, I did not expect him to be the one to break the quiet.

"I'm an idiot, I know that. I just— there's so much shit going on," John starts with a grim laugh. "And I don't know how to deal with this, because I'm a weak idiot,"

"No you're not!" I interrupt.

"Yes I _am_ ," He says sternly and sighs once again. He looks so tired, likes he's carrying a boulder on his shoulders. "I— I should be able to do this. I have been doin' this for, what, a year?"

"What is ” _this”_ "? I ask.

"This— I— My mom. She, um, well she d— passed away. And I've been caring for siblings since then, all four of 'em. I love them, so much. But I'm no parent. And my father, well he does little to nothin' to help," Immediately after the words leave his mouth he physically winces and shakes his head. "Don't get me wrong. My father, he does a lot, okay. He's the one who economically supports us all and it's not his fault that he can't directly take care of the kiddos. He's just _busy_ , okay."

For a second I remember my own father, and how for so many years I used to be so apologetic of his every (and several) flaw. But I push the thought away off a metaphorical tenth floor. I don't need this shit now.

"And besides the kids need to take care of my own crap. I can't afford to slack in class, I _can't_ and is so difficult when it feels like even the teachers hate me. I don't have any friends– except you of course. And there was Francis but that fuckin' crashed and burned and ever since my mom's fucking death anniversary I've just been feeling worse and worse because _fuck_ , everythin' would be so much better if only she was still _here_." A few stray tears run away from his eyes down his red cheeks, which he wipes away angrily as he takes a few deep shallow breaths and will the air back into his lungs.

"So what I'm tryin' to say is," John continues, his voice slightly shaky and hoarse. "This is how I blow steam I guess. The dumbass fights that's it. I mean, I won't fight anyone who sneezes the wron' way but the school it's so full of assholes it's not that hard to find someone punchable. I know there are other ways, I mean I tried yoga once but it ain’t exactly my thing," He ends with a chuckle and I can tell he's trying to lighten the atmosphere.

For a moment I just look at him, taking all in. Then, without really thinking of what I'm about to say, my hand travels from the chain handle to his knee and thigh.

"If you want," I start slowly and sort of uncertain. "I can help you find another way to blow off steam."

It takes a few seconds for him to understand what I'm offering, but when he does his eyes open up like saucers and his cheek redden even more intensely. I find myself about to take back what I said, maybe even throw a "no homo lmao" because I don't even know if he likes guys and I might have just fucked one of the most wonderful friendships I've ever had.

But then he puts his hand on top of mine on his knee, and I know what his response is. 

 


	13. The Cat Who Got The Cream

 

Here's a discovery: John Laurens is gay.

 _Very_ gay.

 _And_ _thank_ _god_ _for_ _that_.

After the silently accepted my proposal, we ran toward his house and locked ourselves inside his room, even if we were only ones there. It's been around forty minutes since lunch ended and I don't even have the energy to panic about skipping class and breaking my perfect assistance record, because who cares about that when I can be resting on John's firm, freckles chest and enjoy the pleasant ache the scratches on my back left.

I stare at John but he isn't looking at me, instead his eyes fixed on the window beside the bed (and _god_ what a big, comfortable bed John has). I entertain myself by kissing every single spot of his body my lips can reach, happy and oh so satisfied by the fact that I have seen and touched John in ways I assume no other person has. But at the same time, I'm trying to distract myself from the anxiety creepy on the back of my brain, because John hasn't said anything since we finished and I can't help but fear I royally fucked up while trying to do the contrary.

"Hey," I mumble quietly against his collarbone, deciding that I'm done with this silence.

"Hey," He says back, finally taking his eyes away from the window and toward me. For a second I feel uncomfortable, being bare under his gaze, but I force the discomfort away. It's just John. And me. _John_ _and_ _me_.

"Are you... okay with _this_?" I ask carefully and his cheeks heat up again at the reminder of what we just did.

"I— yeah, I guess I— I've just never done this before. I mean I _have_ but—,"

"Not like this." I finish for him and try to hide my smile. _I_ _know_. _I_ _noticed_.

"Yeah, I... I'm not sure... of how to go from here,"

I let my eyes fall shut as I make a mental list regarding the situation:

•I just had sex with John Laurens, the handsome and wonderful boy I've been lusting and crushing after for weeks, maybe months.

•I offered John to help him blow off steam, and that's exactly what I did. As far as he knows, there are no feelings attached to this.

•If this means there's a chance he'll stay out of fights, I'm more than willing to continue on his terms.

•Like, seriously. I'm _more_ _than_ _happy_ to comply.

"Do you want to do this again?" I settle for asking. He subtly bites his lip but I still notice, and I'm happily reminded of a similar face he was making not so long ago.

"If we do continue... _this_. We'll still be friends, right?" John asks back.

"Of course," I nod and my heart clenches uncomfortably in my ribs. "It'll just be friends helping each other out," I say, and I mean it. Lately, my only bedroom companion has been my left hand given the fact that I haven't really been able to be genuinely attracted to anyone other than John for more than fifteen minutes. Everything will be going smoothly and then before I know it I'm thinking about how they don't have the same awkward freckles. It's stressful in a way, honestly. My dick too has needs.

His stares at me, his hazel irises drilling into my soul as his eyes squint slightly. "Okay." He says, and I smile.

"Good." I agree and push myself up on my elbows to be able to lean toward his face. Finally, I'll be able to know the taste of his tan, soft looking, freckle ridden lips.

My lips are met with a finger instead.

"Don't," He says and I pout. " _Alex_. If we're gonna keep this up, then we need rules. And the first one is that I don't want you to kiss me. It just doesn't feel right,"

I sigh with silent disappointment and settle for kissing his chin instead. So close, yet so far still.

"Of course, my dear," I slip up before I can help myself. Whatever, the blush that goes all the way from his cheeks down to his chest is worth it.

He smiles and passes his hand over my already messed up hair playfully. "With those nicknames you'd think you're trying to pursue me, Alex,"

Hah.

Yeah.

 

•••

 

Even in this non-romantic relationship, John still prefers to take it slow. And I don't mind. I'm used to being the charmer and John makes it a really desirable job. Occasionally, it will be him who unexpectedly throws a wink from afar or pinches my hips jokingly when we talk, and my very soul melts like ice cream on a summer day every time.

I've been acting careless and precautious simultaneously. Now, we meet up outside of school more often when we can and where know there won't be anyone to see, and I throw lie after lie toward my friends as easy as breathing. It's selfish, I know, but god some stupid high school drama won't take John away from me. Even if I can't kiss him or tell him just how much he means to me and know such feelings are returned, in a way he's still mine. He's mine to see smiling so wide his dimples show, he's mine when we're in the back of the school playing with Brutus, he's mine when he shows me his art and when our bodies melt together like two burning candles behind locked doors. He's mine to see happy and careless for a bit. And I cherish it even though it's not all I wish I had.

And if he only wants to be my friend who I occasionally have sex with, then that's fine. I'll take what I can.

 


	14. The Answer

 

"And she has the most beautiful _marrons_ eyes,"

"Your club leader?"

Lafayette nodded enthusiastically. "Adrienne." He says. "And such a sweet voice,"

"You two seem... close." I say carefully. Lafayette would probably freak if I told him he liked his club leader before he figured it out himself. We were laying on his bed, our sides smushed together as we watching a repeated episode of _Arrow_ , when Lafayette started rambling about the famous Adrienne. I don't blame him. I know that if I could I would burst out talking about my ridiculous crush on John Laurens to anyone that would listen if only that was an option. But it's not. So I let Lafayette have what I don't without complaints.

" _Oui_ , we have truly bonded because of our roots. Did you know we used to live in the same city!?" He yelps and moves his hands around him energetically.

"No, I did not know that," I say. "Sounds like you two were meant to meet,"

My brother smiles dreamily at the comment. "We did, didn't we?"

As Lafayette goes on singing praises about his new lady love, my phone dings on my sweatpants and I immediately know it's my John because of the ringtone. Before I even take it out I'm already biting my lip in attempts to suppress the smile threatening to scape to my cheeks, and after I do I unlock it as discretely as I can and check my messages.

 

**Angie: You doing anything rn?**

 

Ismirk.  _Booty_ _call_.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Not at all, good sir, would you like to make any plans for this evning?**

**Alexander Hamilton: **evening**

**Angie: Dont be a tease**

**Alexander Hamilton: Sorry not sorry gumdrop ;)**

**Alexander Hamilton: Luckily for you, I happen to be quite free**

**Angie: Hahaha.**

**Angie: Get over here you dork  
**

**Alexander Hamilton: See ya in a few <3  
**

I grin to myself and then look over to Lafayette. I'm actually not particularly free. I mean, I didn't have it in schedule to watch _Arrow_ with Lafayette but either way, I'm not exactly doing nothing, so I have to come up with _something_.

"Who was that?" My brother unsurprisingly asks.

"Just Angelica, she wants me to go over and help her do some research for the upcoming English essay and stuff," I say and mentally pat myself on the back for coming up with that on the spot.

He pouts, and I feel bad for a moment. Almost guilty. _Almost_.

"Hey, how about you call Adrienne and invite her to that French coffee shop you were telling me about?" I suggest.

"You think I should?" He says hesitantly with a subtle blush.

"Of course! You guys can talk and criticize the badly imitated French pastries together,"

He smiles and sits up with an excited air around him. "It does sound _amusant_."

With Lafayette happier, I exit the room and yell at Thomas that I'll be out for a few hours. He yells back at me to not get kidnapped from whatever room in the house he is and with that I leave, barely being able to keep myself from skipping my way to John's house.

 

•••

 

"The reason the wall is such a stupid concept is that it would literally solve nothing, so many immigrants don't even come from the border illegally but—"

"They come legally and overstay their visits, yeah. I don't see how a wall could solve that unless Mr. Annoying Orange plans on building a dome around the United States—" I gasp.

"Like that one Simpsons episode!"

He snorts in an uglily cute way. "Exactly."

"I honestly wouldn't put it past him."

I've always liked sex. It makes me feel good, validated, and pretty. And who doesn't like to feel pretty? I admit I perhaps started my sexual life a little too early and that there are many things I regret and wish I could change but in the end, I like sex. It's something I enjoy, regardless of how much of a "whore" that makes. I mean I'm sorry, I'll just change my libido at will next time if it makes you comfortable. But point is, I've had lots of sex with many different kinds of people. Sex with John Laurens though? It should be a category on its own. It's wonderful, the process of slowly getting to know each other's bodies and likes and how to get certain reactions from the others by doing specific things. It feels so strangely new. I am no doe eyed virgin but every time I lay with John I feel like I'm about to explore something completely unknown. Which made me think back to that initial question, the curious itch that started all this spiral into lovesick madness: who is John Laurens?

Well, John Laurens is a man. A young man. He has freckles that expand like sand grains across the beach of his body, awkward ears, and the cutest dimples. John Laurens is a nerd, he knows more random nature facts that should probably fit on that cute head of his which is probably why he spits them out too often, to make space for fresh knowledge. He's opinionated and kinda hot-headed, but I have to admit he looks pretty hot when he's angry. Even hotter then he's getting into an argument and looks so pissed while simultaneously destroying the other person with facts and it's so—

John Laurens is not okay. He has issues, insecurities, and shitty coping mechanisms I'm trying to make him drop. It has worked, kind of, he hasn't gotten into any fist fights recently but he still argues quite a bit, but I don't think it's possible to keep John from shouting his opinion. He's not broken, though. Perhaps a little scratched and bent on the sides but he's still whole.

John Laurens is wonderful, and all the people who made me think otherwise in the past would agree if only they took the time to get to know such marvelous human being.

Sex, that's not all want with him. I want so much more. But after experiencing it for a bit I'd much rather have this than nothing.

"Not only that but it would actually be keeping immigrants from returning to Mexico once they've gotten enough money to help their families," John continues and I listen as I lay on his back, absentmindedly playing with the curly jungle that is his hair. There are hickeys and finger marks and scratches all over his back and I'm sure he will scold me once he realizes. But for now, I smile at it with guilty pleasure.

Suddenly, cutting him off in the middle of a sentence, the door downstairs opens and John stops talking immediately.

"Shit." He mumbles, though he doesn't sound particularly stressed.

"Who is it?" I ask as he scrambles off the bed and from under the blanket to put on some clothes. I do the same and internally mourn the view of John's back.

"My siblings, two of them at least. They returned sooner than I expected." He finishes dressing up and tries to make his hair look like he wasn't just fucking me.

"You have three, right?"

"Four," He corrects. Holy shit.

"Should I– should I leave?" I stammer once I'm not naked anymore and John turns to me, staying silent for a moment. I prepare to get kicked out.

"No, you can— I'll introduce y'all." He says, and my face lights up in a way it shouldn't. It's just John's family. But then again, it's _John's_ _family_.

Right before I leave John's room I check my phone quickly for any messages.

**Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez: How is research going????**

**Alexander Hamilton: Awesome :)**

•••

 

Downstairs we find less John-like but still pretty John-ish medium John, who turns out is apparently named Harry, and a girl John I had never seen before named Martha.

"Hey Jack," Harry mumbles as he fist bumps his brother. "Who's this?"

"This is my friend Alexander, he's hangin' out here for a while."

I know it shouldn't sting the way it does, but it stings.

"Nice to meet you," He says in the same low voice and then retreats to the kitchen. He seems nice.

"Hello, Alexander!" Martha says enthusiastically. "John has told me a bit about you."

"He has?" I can't help but say.

"Yeah, you're like a huge nerd, right?" She says with a wink and I don't understand the hidden subtext but laugh anyway.

" _Anyway_ ," John cuts in. We'll be upstairs if you need us, now please—"

"We're gonna watch a movie," Martha interrupts him in returns. "You guys should totally join us,"

I look at John for guidance. I'm not sure of how to respond.

He sighs reluctantly. "What type?"

She smirks, and it looks fairly similar to John's smirk. Same dimples and everything. "Horror," She whispers for dramatic effect.

"Isn't it too early for scary movies?" John questions just as Harry is leaving the kitchen with an apple. 

"There's no such thing as too early for scary movies, Jack," He says seriously. 

Eventhally, John accepts the offer and ends up squished beside me and Martha on the couch. There's more than enough room for everyone to have their own personal space but we are all comfortable pressed against each other under the fluffy blankets. Plus it gives me an excuse to be touching John, and I would never complain about such thing.

Martha's pretty nice and energetic. She has a small notebook she seems to keep on her pocket where I can often see her writing what looks like prompts and notes. I have the hunch she's a writer. Harry's sort of reserved but still hilarious in a deadpan sort if way and I'm genuinely not sure if it's intentional or no, and I'm too afraid to ask. Overall, if I had to describe this evening, my word of choice would be _warm_. Warm like John's body, like the popcorn, and the blankets. Like the hints of the sun as it starts to hide. Like the blush on my cheeks.

And like the comfortable feeling in my chest. This is what John Laurens is, a sunny afternoon in a sea of freckles. And I've finally gotten consumed by flames.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Hamilton


	15. Cookies and Cream

 

I love children, I really do. They just have this innocent yet somehow raw view of the world. It's so careless and uncomfortably honest. I guess I envy them, in a way, because I barely got to see the world like that as a child. I had to replace my lenses way too quickly, change them from childish wonder to cruel maturity. And I see them, being so small, so unaware, and I guess I wish that were me.

But as of now, I literally cannot exist within the same house as Maria's six other friends. They're adorable and wonderful and also _way_ _too_ _much_. I escaped with the excuse of doing exercise (which I never do but probably should) and now I find myself wandering around the neighborhood, messing with my phone. I bet that if one of the many old ladies who live on this area were to look out from their windows and see me they would probably scoff and grumble "teenagers these days" with a disappointed tone as if her generation was any better objectively speaking.

Lafayette isn't on the house either, he said something about hanging out with Adrienne. I assume they're doing club related stuff, not the first time they do it on the weekend. Which leaves Burr, Neddy, and Thomas on their own to deal with the girls. Sorry not sorry, guys.

After checking there are no cars coming and crossing the road again, I read over Kitty's message and choke a laugh. Where does this girl get this shit? I'm guessing it's Hercules, based on all the weird shit he knows, but I would pretty much believe anything that came from her at this point.

**Blondie: ya heard abt mr steubens party?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Parti??**

**Alexander Hamilton: **Party**

**Alexander Hamilton: As if an alcoholc and music and crazy dancing/party/?**

**Blondie: yeah this w/e. really wild shit aprntly. obvs were nt gonna be able to come bt I rly wanna know what haps there**

**Alexander Hamilton: You're literally so nosy**

**Blondie: whatever hammie <3 ya thnk hell be to go to school on mon? cus i busted my ass doin French hw and I want my work to be appreciated lmao**

Unconsciously I start biting at my polished nails. French class has sure become... _difficult_ lately and I can't help but get a little frustrated just to think about it. And it's not because of the course material or the accent but because of certain South Carolinian who sits on the back. He always has. He never participated much and is one of the few Seniors in that class. That combined with his well-known reputation made me aware of his pretense. That's all. Aware. But then I met him, and I fell for him, and now I feel as if every organ of my body is being squished every day I have to spend an hour so close to John Laurens without being able to even look at him without looking suspicious. It's torture, I dare to say. My idiotic lovesick heart can't handle this.

**Alexander Hamilton: And how're you planning on finding out what happens there?**

**Alexander Hamilton: You got a secret source somewhere, Kitts?**

**Alexander Hamilton: **Kitty**

While she starts to type her answer I look up to make sure I haven't wandered off to the middle of anywhere. But no, in fact the only middle I am is around the middle of the neighborhood, in a tiny green area with a few benches. Way smaller than the neighborhood park. And there, sitting beside the tree, is a curly haired figure giving his back to me. I smile, biting my lips with a sudden thrill of happiness caused by this coincidence what wasn't there a second ago. This has become a little too familiar, finding John turned from me. And as always, I walk up to him without even thinking once.

I decided to approach with quiet footsteps, tiptoeing my way toward him. When I'm right behind him, as I try to stifle my laughter, I raise my arms and suddenly yell "WAH!"

" _aH_!" John yelps as he turns around toward me. "What the fuck, Alexander!?" He says, though I can see the corner of his mouth perk up slightly.

How I wish I could just... _lean_ _in_ and just... kiss him. 

Yeah, just that. I'm such a wordsmith, I know.

Or at least, I usually am. I feel like if words were my superpower, John would be my kryptonite. They usually come so easily but with him, I have to work with them to make sense of myself.

"You come here often?" I decide to say with a very bad imitation of a southern accent. John snorts and his ears, sticking awkwardly to the sides as always, turn red.

Is it weird that I'm starting to find them strangely cute?

"No actually, I don't," John plays along with an easy smile. He's now turned completely toward me an I can see the pencils stored on his curls and the charcoal smudged on his cheek. He probably doesn't even realize it.

"Well, we should come here more often together. What's your name, handsome?" I add an overly dramatic wink for dramatic effect. John snorts and throws his head back with laughter and I almost start melting right there.

"Alex," He complains, though he's still smiling. I sit down beside him.

"What?" I say and he glares at me, though he can't hold it for long. I chuckle. "Okay, okay. Seriously. What's up?"

"Nothin'" He sighs, leaning against the tree. "Just, not feelin' like being home right now, y'know?"

"Is something wro–"

"No, it's not like that." He hurries to say. "I'm just tired and I don't wanna deal with my father.... shit that sounded so shitty,"

"No, it didn't," I protested softly. "You're allowed to want a break from him, John,"

"I know," He sighs. "I— he just wants what's best for me, and I'm runnin’ away from it like an idiot," John pauses for a second, looking too tired for someone his age. "I should go home,"

"John–"

"There's so much I could be doing right now. I could be with my siblings, studying, even tending the freakin’ garden–"

"John, listen to me," I say, grabbing him by the cheeks even though his eyes are away. "You are not a robot."

He started at the ground with a clenched jaw, his eyes getting glassy. Suddenly he closes them, making the eye bags under them cringe a little, and sucks in a sharp breath. He finally meets my eyes.

"You're right," He says. "You're right. That's why I left anyway, for a break. I– I need to chill,"

"What you need," I say slowly, coming up with something else to say on the spot "Is ice cream."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know an amazing ice cream place not far from here,"

He looks hesitant for a second and I unconsciously start biting the inside of my cheek. _Please_ _say_ _yes_.

"Fine," He decides and I fist bump the air, making him snort. "Whatever, yeah. Let's go,"

•••

I took John to _Sweet_ _Cones_ , this cozy little ice cream parlor I used to go a lot when I recently moved with the Stevens. It's not very well known and you could say it's on the cheaper side, but I still consider it the best place to eat ice cream in the entire state of Georgia. I felt slightly ashamed taking John here, started doubting myself and questioning why didn't I take him to a fancier place. But the discomfort went away the second I saw John smile with wonder at the little establishment.

"This is so cute," John nearly gasped as he stared at the pastel-colored tables and chairs.

"Glad you like it," I said softly before turning around and smiling at the man behind the counter. "George!"

"Alexander," He nodded at me. George is the owner of this parlor and has put up with me for a couple years now. He still won't give me a damn discount though. "What would you two like?"

"For me the usual," I said, which was raspberry with peanuts. "And for him, um, John what do you want?"

"Uhhhhh..." He stared at the many flavors for a few more seconds. "Cookies and Cream, please."

I insisted on paying and then we started walking around the streets. We bantered about books and John told me that ladybugs are apparently insectivores which ruined my perception of the red and black pals entirely. John seemed to enjoy my whole world coming apart once more because of his inconvenient natural knowledge.

"They are so cute though!" I had screeched. "I always imagined them as tiny nice prey!"

"Survival of the prettiest, Alexander," He exclaimed and I almost choked on my ice cream as I laughed.

"You'd definitely survive in that case,"

The company was as sweetly sticky as the ice cream melting through my fingertips. And, to be honest, if I let myself shut the windows of reality just for a moment I could pretend that this was a date, and that John Laurens was my boyfriend. But no matter how much I fantasize that is not the case. John Laurens, Handsome, funny, and stupidly smart John Laurens just doesn't see me like that. I've tried to subtly turn my charms a notch higher, a smile here, the deep voice or the eyelashes there, because a boy's gotta at least try y'know. But it doesn't seem to do much.

John Laurens doesn't like me. But here, as we walk down nearly empty streets with ice cream cones in our hands and sugar coming out of our mouths, I can pretend for just a moment he does.

"Hey," John suddenly nudges at me with his elbow. I hum absentmindedly in response. "Isn't that your brother?"

I look up and there, in fact, is no other than Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette himself, talking animatedly to a girl with bronze skin and dark braided hair. Not a club related stuff then. Shit.

_Fuck. Shit. Fuck–_

I grab John’s wrist and sprint down the nearest alley.

 


	16. I Am Not A Robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little more uneventful than usual but after all it is an extra chapter.
> 
> Happy Valentines you guys ;)

 

We panted as we pressed our backs against the warm brick wall of an old building that shadowed over us. The alleyway had a sour smell and stopped on a dirty wall, had it been nighttime this would've probably been the perfect setting for the beginning of a scary movie. We wouldn't dare to speak, Alexander was shaking and I felt that whatever might come out of my mouth might... I don't know, result in something bad.

I should've simply stayed home in the first place. Harry might need help with his homework and I have to water my cactus, Nelly. But of course the second I saw my father come through that door with his goddamn "I'm going to ruin John's day" face I had to make an excuse and run away like a child. I am not a child, I'm supposed to be the oldest one. I don't know why I can't act as such. And it's not like I'm going to be able to hide forever, we'll probably talk the second I step back into the house anyway. Hell knows what he wants now. I pray it's not another law school he found nearby.

Pray to who, exactly? The fuck do I know.

But still, instead of facing my own issues here I am, sneaking around with one of the most beloved boys in school. _I_ _don't_ _know_ _what_ _I'm_ _doing_.

"J," Alexander finally whispers after more minutes of drowning silence. "Do you think he's gone?"

"Probably," I say. "It's been like, ten minutes,"

He still doesn't move. I silently sigh.

"I can go check," I say and he smiles, wide and toothy and cute, with relief.

I swear this motherfucker knows what he's doing.

I detach myself from the bricked wall and walk over to the end of the alley, where I peak my head out as subtly as I can manage. All around the place is mostly lacking humans with the exception of an old couple and some children waiting for their parent. No Lafayette to be seen. Even I feel lighter with the relief.

I'm not exactly sure of what's going on with Alexander and his brother, but from what I've gathered he's quite overprotective. And, in that case, I understand why he wouldn't want Alexander hanging out with me out of all people. I mean, I am John Laurens after all: the selfish spoiled brat with anger issues everyone hates.

I turn my head toward Alexander and in a normal tone say "He's gone,"

"Oh thank god," He exhales a thousand pounds of air as he walks away from the wall.

I notice our ice cream has melted during this interlude. Bummer, it was good ice cream.

While I resigned myself to the fact that my ice cream was gone, Alexander inserts himself on my area of personal space and smoothly wraps his slim arms around my neck, putting his face at _very_ close proximity to mine. I literally had to control every single muscle of my body to not show a reaction but unfortunately, I don't have power over the blood rushing like rapids all over to my face and ears. Fuck. _Fuck_.

"I'm sorry," He says while I try my hardest to keep my eyes far _far_ away from his lips. "I kinda ruined our ice cream d– outing,"

"It's alright," I squeak out like a mouse high on hydrogen. "It's not your fault,"

"Still, I– it's not fair to you," Alexander insists like the goddamn gentleman he is. I can feel the warmth of his breath every time he speaks, against my cheeks, against my jaw, against my mouth. I am a weak man, and if he doesn't freaking _stop_ I'm going to do something incredibly stupid.

"Hey, it's okay," I choke out. "I knew what I was getting into when I became your friend," I didn't. "I— I don't mind. I know you can't– _y'know_."

"I know," He sighs once more, warm and tender air grazing my skin. "But I wish it wasn't that way."

He steps back, untangling his arms from around my neck, detaching his electrical field from mine. And I finally feel like I can breathe again.

You see, it's not that I don't want to kiss Alexander, because that would be a straight up lie. But I'm not stupid enough to do that to myself, not again. I can't let myself fall into some idiotic romantic fantasy that will never happen. I can't allow my feelings keep ruining friendships. I can't let what happened with Francis repeat with Alexander, not him.

He's too special.

"Hey, you coming?" He says, and I notice he's out of the alleyway. Huh.

I smile, knowing I wouldn't say no even if I could. "Of course I am, dumbass." I say, and then, "Hey did you know shrimp's hearts are located on their heads?"

God-fucking-damning _why_ did I say that?

But maybe, the surprise in his eyes followed by his laughter blooming from his chest, makes me regret it just a tiny bit less.

Of course he does, Alexander just has that effect.

 


	17. Hot n’ Cold

 

I woke up at dawn, sweating and panting and with my underwear damp. It only took a quick glance to confirm that was indeed not pee. _Damnit_.

With cheeks filled with unprocessed and pure embarrassment, I tiptoed my way to the laundry room and dumped my clothes and blankets in the washer, praying to every god I knew of that no one, _especially_ _Lafayette_ , would wake up. This was stupid, humiliating, and worse of all not the first time it happened with John. Of course, I know this isn't anything out of the ordinary for a teenage boy with a dick, but my brain should know better than fabricate filthy fantasies in my sleep when I'm actually able to taste the actual object of my desire for once. But no, my body just hates me and wants me to die of embarrassment. I can't even scape my want for John in my sleep.

I swear, I'm too young to experience this ridiculous amount of longing. Just take me to my designated circle of hell already, please.

I settle my butt on top of the washer and stare at the whitewashed ceiling. Gosh, how did I end up here? Not on the laundry room, obviously, but smitten over who I once thought to be a horrible person. How stupidly wrong I was. This is not how I expected things to go the first time I approached him on a spike of curiosity, not at all.

Would I change it?

 

•••

 

“ _Hey, John," I said._

_"Hmm?" He mumbled an answer as he petted Brutus._

_Scooted closer to him and laid my head on his shoulder. I felt him jump a little but otherwise ,he didn't react to my touch. "Say cheese!" I exclaimed and he turned his head toward me confused._

_"What!?" He asked and the camera clicked._

_"Perfect," I sang._

_"Alexander, no!" John complained as I looked at the picture I just took. He appeared looking at the camera, kind of, his light hazel eyes wide like two spheres and his cheeks red which made his freckles pop up. Cute. And in the corner there was I, resting on his shoulder._

_"Alexander yeeeees!" I screeched and saved the picture._

_He made me delete it. I lied.  
_

 

I quickly scrolled away from the photo, wishing I could stare at it a little longer but knowing it was too risky since I was surrounded by my friends. No, since we almost got caught by Lafayette a week ago I decided I needed to be more careful. I couldn't afford him or anyone finding out about my relationship with John. I couldn't afford to lose him. I had taken the picture a few days ago and I found myself glancing at it often, but can you blame me? Gosh, even John's stupid freckles looked cute on it.

John was not the first person I had a casual fling with, not at all. But he's sure the first to make me desire more. I used to think I had the game figured out, that I knew everything when it came to sex and love. But John is like a slap on the face, reminding me that I'm still young and that I know shit. It's both refreshing and uncomfortable to be faced with the fact that I still got so much to learn.

 _I_ _don't_ _know_ what I'll do about John, about my feelings for him, and that's a crazy concept for me.

"Shoulders are not going to kill anybody!" I heard Eliza say as I zoned off. "Like, Alexander, do you get distracted by my shoulders?"

"What?" I asked and looked up only to be met with Eliza taking off her jacket, showing off her sleeveless shirt.

"See my point!?"

"Alexander's always in the clouds anyway, that doesn't count," Meade said and Eliza glared at him.

"Are you saying the shoulder dress code _is_ justified?"

"No!" He hurried to say. "Just that Alexander isn't a good test,"

I scoffed playfully. "What do you mean? I'm not "in the clouds" or whatever. I'm right here," I said, making quotation marks with my fingers.

"Eh, not really," Kitty shrugged. "But that's alright, we love ya anyway,"

I felt a cold pit form in my stomach and grab my insides like a chilly fist. Shit, they're right. I'm always in the clouds, aren't I? Only that the clouds are John and I am such a shitty friend. I mean, this is why people always leave me, don't they? Because I always jump head first into some bizarre obsession, and this time it happens to have curls. And I forget that people do care about whenever I pay attention to them or not.

I'm a shitty friend, aren't I?

I take a deep breath and push all the thoughts clawing at my brain under. I'm alright, they don't need to know how much I hate myself right now.

"How would you guys feel about hanging out on Sunday?" I ask.

"That sounds like a fun idea!" Lafayette exclaims and I bite the inside of my cheek.

"Where to, though?" Peggy asks as she sips her gross cafeteria milk.

I shrug. "The movie theater?"

Hercules nods. "Sounds good, I'll ask my mom,"

"Same,"

"Oh shut up Angelica, we all know daddy lets you do anything,"

"No shit Eliza, same thing for you,"

I smile though I feel kinda hollow on the inside. I can make it up to them, right?   

 

That evening after I lie to Lafayette once more and head toward the back of the school instead of home like I so claimed, I found Brutus sprawled on the grass taking a nap, already waiting for us. Good. It's not like I don't like the dog, Brutus is an ugly sweetheart, but I don't really have the energy. I kinda just want to go home and write (about what? anything) but I can't just not see John either.

Everything would be so much better if this weren't a secret.

At first ,the sneaking around and the slight sense of danger was thrilling, like a snap of electricity traveled through my body every time we touched with the knowledge we could get caught. It was exciting. But now it's anxiety, it's longing, it's dissatisfaction. I don't want to divide myself between my friends and family and John but fuck, do I have any other option?

I snap away from my thoughts when I hear footsteps I immediately recognize as John's. He has a light but secure step that I've found easy to identify over time.

"Hey," He mumbles as he sits beside me.

"Hey," I answer and he looks at me weird.

"Ev'rything alright?" He asks and I shrug. I don't know, am I okay?

"Just, feeling a lil' down I guess. It's nothing, it'll go away,"

He doesn't say anything so I assume that answer satisfied him, but then I feel his calloused fingers brushing my hair out of my face and tilting my head toward him ever so gently. I was sort of reluctant to look at him but gosh, he's so beautiful.

"I don't know what's goin' on," He says. "And I won't force you to talk about anythin' you don't want to. But, I can help you take your mind off it."

I let out a breathy laugh, _yes_ _please_. "I wouldn't be opposed to that,"

"Good," John says and then dips his head to kiss my clothed shoulders. I gasp.

"John!" I exclaim, holding in all the sounds he makes me want to release. "Here!?"

"Why not?" He says and I feel his warm breath against my neck. "Nobody ever comes here,"

It's stupid and risky, but as soon as he presses his lips against the juncture of my neck I know I'm a goner.

"So?"

I smirk. "Nobody needs to know, right?"

 


	18. Poison Paradise

"What the in fucking _shit!?_ " Kitty screeches. "I don't understand,"

"You see? This is why I said we shouldn't watch scary movies, we all end up with an existential crisis," Meade says calmly as he sipped his slushy, though I'm sure he was trying to make sense of what we just saw on his mind.

Hercules shrugs. "I don't even know, man. Girl was real one moment and the next she wasn't even there,"

"Oh c'mon guys, the movie was obviously about the effects of mass consumerism on Americans and how it's killing us," I say from my spot on the bench and all of my friends turn to stare at me.

"Literally fuck off Alexander," Eliza deadpans and I wink at her.

Angelica swallows a bunch of leftover popcorn she didn't finish at the theater. "He has a point though, cause if you think about it–"

As my friends keep conversing about the movie I lay back, listening to them. Maybe this doesn't completely make up for my neglect but it's a start, and that's okay.

"You good, Hammie?" Lafayette asks and I lean my head on his shoulder.

"Yeah," I say. "Just thinkin',"

"That movie was _deep_ , right?"

I snort. "Hella," I pause. "We're good, right?"

Lafayette frowns. "Why wouldn't we be?"

I shrug. "Nothing, just- lowkey abandonment issues and all that jazz," 

My brother shifts on the bench and pulls me toward him to hug me. "We're absolutely _bon_ ,"

I squeeze him. "Great,"

And then,

"Hammie is that a hickey?"

I pull back. "Screw off, so what?" I say with no real bite.

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Who was it?"

I try to make something up on the spot, I mean I can't exactly tell him that John Laurens blew me behind the school the other day and that's why I have a hickey.

"Um," I hesitate. "You remember Cordelia Lott from my literature class?"

He gapes dramatically and I smack him on the arm. "You two together?" He asks and I quickly shake my head. I can't have Lafayette giving Cordelia The Talk™ when we haven't spoken in months.

"It's just a casual thing, don't bother her about it," I shrug and try to change the theme quickly, away from anything related to John. "Hey, how have things been going with that club leader of yours?"

"Adrienne?" He asks, I nod.

"You like her, right?" I singsong with a smirk.

Lafayette turns beet red and looks down. "Am I that obvious?"

I nod sincerely.

He sighs. "She's just so— wonderful, Alexander. I swear she steals my breath away. It's so silly,"

I push him affectionately. "It's not. Look, I think you should tell her—"

" _No—_ "

"I'm sure your feelings will be returned, c'mon give it a try, Gil,"

He glares at me for a moment and then deflates.

Lafayette sighs defeated. "If it goes terribly wrong and I lose her friendship forever I am going to throw you off a cliff,"

"Woohoo!" I celebrate throwing a dramatic fist on the air.

It's kinda hypocritical of me to advise Lafayette to do what I can't. But at least he has a chance. I don't. 

And if my thoughts had summoned him, my phone buzzes and I immediately know who it is. I discretely take it out and quickly read the message.

 

 **Angie:** **You** **free???**

I turn to Lafayette. "Hey, so, I kinda forgot to return this book to the library and—"

 

•••

 

John is sprawled on his bed, his tousled hair loose on what I know were ridiculously soft sheets and his body won't stop shifting anxiously on the mattress. As soon as I tap the window he sits up to open it and pulls me inside, so we both fell on his bed.

"I'm _this_ close," He croaks, and shows me his fingers just a centimeter away from each other for visual representation. "To going out and throwing a punch,"

I crawl closer and touch his curls. "Hello to you too, gumdrop. What's wrong?"

He breathes in sharply through his nose and stands up. I stay on the bed, a little lost, as he heads toward his door and opens it, then sticks his head out and looks around.

"Come 'ere," He says to me and I follow without question. We walk down the hall and I can hear the voices of his siblings and I'm guessing, father, echoing throughout the house. I knew Martha and Harry wouldn't mind my presence as they had already seen me a few times. The rest, though, I'm not so sure.

He pulls at something on the ceiling and ladders falls down. I had to keep myself from yelping at the surprise. He looks back at me quickly and then starts climbing.

I hesitate for a moment, but then I snap out of it and follow suit. Up there I am met with a wide attic, not quite as dusty as movies make them seem. Scrambled on the floor and walls are paint brushes and cans and canvases, some finished and others thrown to a corner with some unidentifiable traces of paint. It was a little cold, but nothing out of the ordinary. John hurries to pull the stairs up again and throws himself to the floor with a sigh and a _thud_.

"This was my mother's art room," He whispers after a moment, and I sit down next to him. "My dad wanted to throw everything out after she passed, he couldn't bear to see it. I didn't let him, though," He laughs dryly. "I'm the only one who comes up here anymore."

I look around the room. Though it is beautiful in its own sweet, melancholic way, John still hasn't answered my question.

"John–"

"Have I ever told you I want to be a zoologist?" He says. I shake my head but I am not surprised, I mean have you ever heard him talk about nature? It's beautiful. "It's just perfect. I love the idea of being able to work with animals and further understand them. My father, though, he's not so fond of the idea,"

I frown, I swear every time I hear about John's dad I like him less and less.

Gently, I scoot closer and place his head on my lap and play with his curls. He leans closer and my face might as well be a strawberry. "Whatever he says, you'd make the best zoologist ever. For real,"

He smiles thinly. "Thanks, Alex. But it's not that simple," He sighs with a tiredness a teenager shouldn't have. "He wants me to be a lawyer, or a businessman. Either way, something he believes will make me happy. He doesn't understand that money and my name on a building won't bring me happiness,"

I tug a curl reassuringly. "Whatever he says, John, he can't control you. Your life is _yours_ ,"

He grimaces. "Is it really?" Suddenly he stands up and walks over to a bunch of used canvases and from under them pulls a bottle of what seems like alcohol. I raise my eyebrows and he sits beside me, "Want some?" He shakes the bottle as he asks.

I'm quick to shake my head. "No thanks," Truly, the idea of consuming something that might make me lose control of my words and actions has never been appealing to me.

He shrugs and takes a gulp of the liquid. "I mean, I don't wanna disappoint him y'know. He's my dad and he only wants the best for me. It's my fault that I just had to like something else,"

"John—"

He takes another swing. "And he keeps bringing up these fuckin' law schools he wants me to go. And like, not to insult your dream career 'Lex, but I ain't give a single fuck about them,"

Mutely I listened to his complaints and half-assed excuses for his father as he drank from the bottle. I never had a parental figure to push a fate on me, of course there was Thomas but honestly, as long as we were all happy and healthy he didn't give a shit. And that was nice. But John, I could hear him build a boulder on his shoulders created by his father's words and pressures. It wasn't fair, he already had so many worries of his own and now this on top of all? When he should already be applying for colleges? And all I could do was hold him closer and hope that meager act was enough.

After a while, he sighs and pushes the bottle away, though the damage is already done. "'m sorry, I shouldn't be botherin' you with this,"

I shake my head. He can talk to me about whatever he wants, he should know that already. "Hey," I say lowly. "Fuck what your father says, John, honestly. You can do whatever the hell you want,"

He gives me a lopsided smile. "Whatever the hell I want?"

I nod, playing along with his semi-drunken state. "Damn right,"

John leans closer, and from this proximity I can clearly see the light shadow his eyelashes cast over his cheeks and every single little sunspot on his skin. It makes me nervous, like having a crush usually makes one feel. Not that I'm on a constant state of anxiety around John, not anymore. His presence brings me a sweet peace if anything. But little things like this make my heart skip a beat.

Then he says "In that case, I really _really_ wanna do this,"

Before I can question what he's even referring to, John takes a handful of my shirt and pushes me toward him until our lips meet each other in a sort of awkward middle.

 _Oh_.

OH—

It only takes me a second to snap out of it and melt into it. I can feel his breath on my cheek and my heart pounding louder than it ever has. His lips taste like alcohol, as expected, though they hold a hint of mint. They're soft but push against mine roughly, almost clumsily. I can't help but smile a little as I deepen it and bury my hands on John's curls.

John fucking Laurens just kissed me, after all, how could I not smile?

I don't bother thinking about the fact that we'll have to talk later, to make things clear between both of us because the situation just got considerably make complicated. No, forget that. The only thing that matters right this second is the way his hands wrap around my waist with a gentleness that is rarely found when we have sex. No, this is different, this is something a little closer to love.

Literally, I'm on John's attic surrounded by paint and portraits being kissed by the sweetest boy alive.

Metaphorically, I'm falling and falling _and falling—_

And I don't even brace myself.

 


	19. There’s Rain (But No Umbrella)

 

I felt as light as a feather on my way home that evening. I wasn't Alexander anymore, no sir, just a happy, lovesick feather floating it's way to a house. I still couldn't believe what had happened, and every time my brain decided to replay the scene every five seconds my cheeks turned bright red and my smile stretched larger. I mean, John Laurens _kissed me,_ on his own free will. That must mean we have a chance, right? Of being together as boyfriend and boyfriend, he did break his own rule after all. Maybe I would even get to kiss John on a _frequent basis._ Just the thought of his lips on mine as a daily greeting or farewell turned my insides into fluffy cherry goo. 

Before I had to leave, I told him we had to talk about some stuff. Mainly our relationship status, and then other things like the fact that he just casually has a bottle of alcohol hidden on his mother's attic. I'm hoping him drinking isn't a usual occurrence, but whatever happens, we'll get through it together. Because that's what _boyfriends_ do. Gosh, call me cheesy but I can't wait to call that lovely boy mine.

And sure, maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but I believe I have the right to feel a little hopeful in this situation.

When I arrive home everyone is on the Pillow Room (also known as living room) watching what seems like a romantic comedy and I almost laugh at the irony.

"Hey guys," I say as I head toward my bedroom.

"You're not joining us!?" Neddy, the offended movie lover, shouts.

"Later!" I say, not sure if I'm actually intending to go through with that.

With my heart almost leaping out of my throat, I jump into my bed and pull out my cellphone from my pants.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: I had a lotof fun today**

**Alexander Hamilton: Talk to you tomorrow, right?**

**Alexander Hamilton: <3 <3 <3**

 

I think I might be in love.

 

•••

 

Later that evening I decide to come by the Pillow Room where a completely different movie seems to be playing. Everyone seems perfectly comfortable in their spots surrounded by pillows: Maria and Burr on the loveseat, Thomas on the armchair, Neddy on the floor beside it, and Lafayette laying down next to the Television. It's nice, to think I get to have this, too.

"Hey," I say quietly as I sit by Lafayette, and everyone acknowledges my presence by either mumbling _hey_ back or throwing popcorn at my general direction.

"What are we watching?" I whisper to Lafayette.

" _ParaNorman_ by Maria's choice,"

"Ah."

Everyone is quite for the next few minutes, and then: "So, about that Cordelia girl..." Lafayette starts.

"What about her?" I ask, knowing perfectly well where this is going.

"Are you sure there's nothing serious between the two of you?"

Maria gasps from her place in the loveseat. "Alexander has a girlfriend!?"

"No, I don't," I say, though I might hopefully get a boyfriend soon. Then I direct myself to Lafayette again. "It's really just some causal on-and-off thing. Nothing to worry about, honest,"

I wish I could talk to Lafayette about John, to tell him about his stupid ugly freckles and stupid disarming laugh that I love so much. But I can't. And for a moment I feel resentful.

"What about you and Adrienne, though? Have you asked her out yet?"

Maria gasps again. "Gilbert has a girlfriend!?"

Lafayette immediately blushes. "I don't, but maybe I will. I'm thinking of taking her dancing?

Everyone in the room pauses, having the same thought in mind. You see, Lafayette as talented has he is in many things, is an absolute disaster when it comes to dancing. And yet we all say:

"Oh, sure."

"Sounds like a great idea,"

"She'll absolutely love it,"

"You go, lover boy,"

"You all think so?" He asks, a little skeptical.

We nod.

And Adrienne's toes might suffer a bit, but at least Lafayette looks hopeful.

 

•••

 

The next day I'm buzzing in school, you'd think it being a Monday I would be as zombie-like as the rest of the student body but I can't help but excitedly anticipate seeing John. Perhaps it's not the best of my academic days, I might have been a little distracted during lectures and assignments, an unusual thing coming from me, because I was too busy thinking about curls and hazel eyes. But I'm a teen and _in love_ so I believe it is my Aphrodite-given right to bask in this bliss, school be damned.

(Though I do plan to overcompensate for this for the rest of the week, but that's beside the point, alright.)

I catch my friends glancing at me weirdly several times throughout the day, but none say anything. Which I'm glad for because any comment on my lovesick mood might have ended with me puking rainbows and roses, and nobody wants to see that.

Gosh, when did I become like this? I used to care so little about having a formal relationship (as formal as teenage romances can be). I just didn't have the time or drive. Now, I still don't know if I have the time, but the drive is most certainly there.

As I'm settling myself in French class (only fifty more minutes!!) I take a quick glance toward where John normally sits, not being able to restrain myself.

But surprisingly, he's not there.

I try to not overthink it, it's probably nothing. (Is he hungover? Sick? Just skipping? Why didn't he tell me? Will he be there after class? Should I come to his house? Did I miss _something_?) And try to at least concentrate for Mr. Steuben's lesson, because I certainly don't want to be scolded by him. But the rotting cherry-goo-turned-black-hole in my stomach won't let me.

(It's gonna be fine. I'm overreacting. It's gonna be fine.)

That's how the next near hour goes by. The second the bell rings releasing us from our classrooms I'm quick to shove everything on my desk inside my backpack and give Kitty a half-assed goodbye before nearly sprinting out of class. I hurry to the back of the school where there's nobody, not even John.

That's alright, he might still come. It's not weird for me to be the first one to arrive, after all.

But after half an hour of pacing and obliterating my nails, I know he's not going to come.

I'm sure this is just a _stupid goddamn_ misunderstanding. He's probably in his house, waiting for me.

If that's the case, why hasn't he texted?

I ignore my thoughts and grab my phone to get answers.

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Hey, what's up?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Why didn't you come to school today, you okay??**

**Alexander Hamilton: Are we going to talk?**

**Alexander Hamilton: Did I do something wrong?**

 

Before I can send it, I delete the last message. No, what am I saying? I haven't done anything wrong. This is just a misunderstanding, I'm sure. A week from now we'll be laughing about this and how stupid we were being. We will be alright.

Yeah, you'll see.

 

 


	20. Wanna Be Adored

 

I've always been praised as a smart kid, even when I was considered nothing but trash people took notice of my grades, my writing, my supposed "talents". A genius they called me. Aren't geniuses supposed to know everything, or at least a substantial amount of information? Technically my brain is stocked with piles of facts when it comes to math, history, English, and any subject as long as it isn't goddamn biology. And yet, I feel like I know nothing of what's important.

Here are a few things I wish I knew, but don't:

_1\. Where The Fuck is John:_ It's been four days since I last heard from him. _Four days._ No, he never came by, and my dozens upon dozens of text messages were left painfully ignored. I haven't seen him around the school, either. For all I know, John Laurens could be dead on a ditch. But I know he's not. Even if I don't know that.

_2\. How The Fuck Do I Feel:_ Putting generic names to the complex chemical components in our brains that cause what we know as "feelings" is not an easy task, and my own is no exception. It might be sadness, or anger, resentment, disappointment,or something in between. Though I am leaning for a combination of them all. There's simply too much going on inside my head and I cannot categorize it as easily as jars of cookies.

_3\. How The Fuck Could I Forget:_ There's a reason beyond mundane facades to why I never let myself be in a relationship. Even when I felt nothing for the person but still craved that closeness, even when I had the chance to do it publicly and with my friend's approval. That reason will probably surprise no one because at the end of the day it's something that we all fear. I didn't want to get hurt, and yet I let my guard down. And look at what happened.

And then there is the one thing that I do know, and that is that I am hurt. I'm hurt and I have to burry sobs in my pillow and let my tears be washed away by a lukewarm shower because if anyone knew they would want an explanation, and I won't be able to give an answer.

Maybe I should, they would go after John Laurens, not me. But I can't let myself be too resentful of him, not until I know why the hell he decided he'd just disappear from my stratosphere. Like he was never there. Like he never kissed me. I want reasons, I want to know _why_ I'm hurting. But I don't. That's another thing I don't know.

I tried to act normally, to continue my days as I usually would. As far as everyone else knew, John Laurens was never a part of my routine to begin with, I just had to remember how it was when that was the case. I would no longer go to the back of the school, or stay awake later than I should talk about meaningless everythings. It's like he was even never there.

But he was, and I can't forget that.

It's Friday, and everyone around me it's happy because, well, it's Friday. Hercules is telling a story about the time he broke in one of the teacher's houses which may or may not be true (you never know with Hercules) and everyone in the table is laughing at his dramatic storytelling antics. I, too, laugh, even if it's not remotely genuine. Yes, the story is very funny, but I can't find it in me to enjoy it as everybody else does. It doesn't matter, nobody makes any comments or glances at my way weirdly and that's all I care about right now.

Eventually, the bell rings and I go through sixth period in autopilot. I don't absorb anything of what the teacher says and strangely, I don't really care. I honestly just want to go home already so I can cry about my disappointment and confusion. It had been a while since I last cried, and now I can't seem to stop. Stupid teenage feelings I didn't ask for. Who knew I could be this pathetic.

The hour goes by so quickly and smoothly I'm still in robot mode as I pick up my things head to my last class. I had become accustomed to glancing at John's empty seat throughout this week, and today was no exception. Only that today the chair wasn't actually empty. To my surprise, John is actually sitting there. Eyes red-rimmed and posture tired looking but still _there_ breathing the same air as me and that's exactly what I needed. He doesn't meet my eye, but I bite my lip trying to conceal all the feelings of hopeful anticipation and sit next to Kitty like my heart isn't about to leap out my throat.

Seventh period passes torturously slow, like time could feel my impatience and decided to make my life a living hell. During that time I had to keep myself from even looking at John, let alone approach him and hug him until all of the air is out of his lungs and all that is in is my love. Instead of fifty minutes, I felt like I sat on that chair for years. It was a miracle, honestly, when the bell rang and I didn't actually have any gray hairs or arthritis.

I packed my things at record speed and sprinted to the back of the school, not caring if anyone thought it was weird or suspicious. The only thing I wanted was John Laurens in all of his dorky glory and I'll be dammed if a few weird stares will stop me.

So I wait. I wait until my legs ache from standing like an idiot and my lips bleed from biting them.

I wait, and he never comes.

 

•••

 

**Alexander Hamilton: Could you please tell me what's going on with you???**

**Alexander Hamilton: I'm worried, John**

**Alexander Hamilton: Can we please talk??**

 

•••

 

On Monday the texts are still unread and unanswered, though that doesn't stop me from glancing down at my phone every three seconds or so on average. Because maybe, _just maybe,_ he'll actually answer. And he will explain why he's ignoring me like this and I'll forgive him, no matter how stupid his excuse is, because I only want things to go back to how they were. In those three seconds that I'm not looking at my cellphone, I accidentally make eye contact with a pair of familiar hazel eyes. My heart speeds up. John looks right back at me and I can feel my chest swell with childish neediness.

Kiss me. Hug me. Nod at me. Please, just do anything. Just give me a sign.

And he does, but not the sign I was hoping for. He simply breaks eye contact and walks away. As if I were nothing but a goddamn stranger. I bury my nails in my palm and try to act like I wasn't just humiliated in the middle of a hallway without anyone knowing.

So this is how it's going to be? Fine. I can play that game too.

That day at lunch I sit next to Kitty, the professional party animal of the group, determined to go through the plan that had been weaving itself in my head since whatever the hell _That_ was that happened this morning.

"Hey, will there be any parties this week?" I ask as nonchalantly as I can manage.

"Thought you'd never ask! It's been a while, Ham," She says.

I shrug. "My bad, Kit Kat,"

She scrunches her nose. "Ew. Anyway, there's totally going to be a party at Pierre's house this Wednesday,"

I frown. "Wednesday? Who the hell parties in the middle of the week?"

She shrugs and laughs. "Dunno. That's Pierre for you. You up for it or nah?"

"Hell yeah," I say before I can even give myself time to hesitate.

Kitty playfully cheers. "I'll send you the address. We'll have so much _fuuuuun_!" I don't mention the fact that she'll have to pick me up anyway so I don't need the address. Oh well, she'll realize eventually.

If John Laurens wants to ignore me like garbage and pretend we haven't been fucking for months, and more importantly, been _friends_ , I can do the same. I'll show him just how much fun I can have without him, how much I don't need his stupid smiles and kisses. I've never needed anyone before, I'm not about to start now. If John Laurens doesn't want me, I have no reason to want him. I should've realized that long ago instead of chasing after him like an absolute idiot.

"What are you two chatting about?" Lafayette asks through a mouth full of fries.

"We're going partying on Wends, you guys wanna go too?"

Everyone says no because of one reason or another. It's no surprise, Kitty is the only frequent partier among us and she has her own group of friends to go to parties with. I can tell Peggy is interested, but her sisters won't let her go to any parties without them yet which she constantly complains about. Lafayette asks us to be careful just about a million times, though I know it's all directed toward me. Whatever.

That Wednesday I put on the tightest pants I own, the ones Lafayette jokingly insists I should only wear for my honeymoon, just because I can. For once I let my dark hair fall loose on my shoulders and basically shower myself in cheap perfume. Tonight, I'm going to have fun.

I tell Thomas I'm staying at Kitty's and he seems convinced enough. Or maybe he just doesn't care. Either way, the Blonde picks me up and we leave toward Pierre's house. As we come closer to the party, I start to feel hesitation, feel like I'm being stupid. But I push it all away. I know what I'm doing, I've gone to parties before and no broken heart will keep me from enjoying the night. Fuck feelings, anyway, who needs _that_ trash?

"Okay so, I'm gonna look for Dolly to let her know I'm here. You good on your own for a bit?"

I scoff dramatically. "Of course. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself,"

She laughs. "Sure you are, buddy. Okay, I'll be right back. Don't like, die, or something,"

I wink at her. "I would never!"

With one last laugh and her middle finger she walks away into the small crowd, leaving me by myself. I take a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. My heart is pounding against my chest and my skin feels hot and sweaty even though the air around me is cold. I don't like it. I try to push this anxious feeling away but it stubbornly clings to my skin uncomfortably. With it still chasing after me I make eye contact with a girl standing alone in a corner. The moment she smiles at me I return the gesture and force myself to approach.

She's cute. With fair skin and pink cheeks bare of any marks. Her hair is ginger and it extends smoothly all the way down to her slim hips. Nothing about her resembles John Laurens, and that is _exactly_ what I need.

"Your friend leaves you alone, handsome?" She says once I'm close enough. From this proximity, I notice her sky blue eyes and how she seems to be chewing bubblegum.

I try to relax my posture as much as I can physically manage at the moment. This is not the time to imitate an iron statue. "She'll be back. In the meantime, would you happen to have a name?" I say accompanied with a charming smile and a shrug.

She laughs, not really amused. "I'm Polly, you?"

"Alexander, though you can call me Alex,"

She looks at me up and down flirtatiously. "Well nice to meet you, Alex."

Once I allow myself to be calm enough, I manage to actually have a good time with Polly, who was adamant on figuring out my zodiac sign by the end of the night for some reason (and when she actually guessed I was a Capricorn I was slightly freaked out). We didn't hook up, but by the time I got home my mouth still tasted of blueberry bubblegum.

She also gave me her number, which I reluctantly ended up throwing away in my bathroom trash can. Polly was nice and all, but I'm done getting attached to anyone else outside of my friends and family. 

If I lie the next morning and say I dreamt of silky ginger locks instead of brown curls, that's no one's business.

 


	21. Making Dreams Last

 

"Dude, you should've seen Hammie yesterday with that chick– what was her name again?"

"Polly."

"Polly, yeah! Like, I leave him alone for a minute and when I come back they're all over each other, I swear! It's been so long since you got some action, Lion Man,"

Not really, but Kitty wouldn't know that.

"Damn, Ham!" Peggy whizzes at me teasingly. "Did you get her number?"

"Nah," I lie. There's no way I can get away with admitting to throwing away a pretty girl's number without at least an interrogation.

Angelica raises her brow and I instinctively look down to my lap, hoping she can't look through me. "Really? That's a first,"

I shrug. "Tough luck I guess," I say to which Peggy snorts.

"Damn right tough luck, girl doesn't go to this school. You lost your chance, Tomcat,”

I fake a laugh and shift awkwardly in my seat. My head hurts, though not because of anything related to last night; I didn't even bother looking at the pee-smell cheap beer that they give at parties. No, my head hurts and my eyes sting and my chest feels as if it was filling up with boiling water and it has nothing to do with the party but about what it reminds me of. The subject of last night had been brought up from the moment we sat down during lunch and I've been begging for it to be dropped since the second it was mentioned. Saying that going to a party and making out with a stranger out of pure pettiness in order to ignore my heartache wasn't my proudest moment would be an understatement. _Of course_ it wasn't going to help. Polly may have had spotless light skin and ginger hair and eyes that remind me nothing of John Laurens, but my brain doesn't need an excuse to think of him over and over again like a broken tape. I miss him, how can I not? From my heart and all the way to my skin I ache for him, but I'm also so mad. I still don't know why he's avoiding me like a bee fleeing freaking climate change, why he decided to just cut all connection between us without at least giving an explanation.

And I'm disappointed because the one time I'm ready to let myself have this, it flies away.

My emotions don't even make sense anymore.

Just in time to cut off my brooding, Lafayette, who had been missing from the lunch table, squishes himself between Kitty and me sporting his trademark Puppy Face. We're apparently in for a treat.

"Gil, where have you been?" Eliza asks.

"You guys won't believe this!" He exclaims instead of giving an actual answer.

She makes a borderline impatient hand gesture to prompt him to go on.

Almost like a balloon popping (out of happiness) he blurts out: "I got a date!"

Everyone gapes at the news, except for Kitty who just straight up shrieks.

"What!? With who!?" She screeches.

"Adrienne?" I ask and he nods quickly, making his big head of hair bounce. 

"We're going to the movie theater!" Lafayette announces with a wide grin. I don't question why he didn't ask her dancing, but that's probably the best for Adrienne's feet.

"Oh. That's—that's honestly great, Gilbert." I choke out.

Everyone around me seems genuinely happy about Lafayette. I mean, why wouldn't they be? This is a good thing, of course it is. And yet, I can't help but feel resent my stomach instead of some other appropriate feeling. He's my brother, I _should_ feel happy for him, but I can only feel as bitter as a damn lemon. I mean, of course he gets to go out with the girl he likes while I lose the guy I may or may not be in love with. But that's not Lafayette's fault, I know that. I do. So why do I still feel this way?

Am I really that selfish?

 

After school is over I send Lafayette a message letting him know I'm on my way home, as always. Along with the message, I type a bunch of stupid emojis to compensate for how I feel even if he isn't aware. Fake it til you make it, right? Because I really hope I'll make it. I can still feel the bitterness in my stomach and every second that passes I feel guiltier.

I shake my head to chase the thoughts away, but without meaning to, my eyes drift to the spot I saw John that day, when I first started doubting what everyone said about him. Unsurprisingly, he's not there, but Brutus is. For a moment I feel like the poor dog is a child in the middle of a divorce, the parents being John and I. It's a ridiculous thought but is enough to make me walk toward him and make dumb kissy noises.

"Hey buddy," I say softly. He whines in response and nuzzles my hand happily. 

Brutus doesn't seem much different from his content doggo self, which isn't unexpected because, well, he's Brutus. John probably still spends time and feeds him which I'm sure are the only things he needs to be happy. In a weird way, I wish that were me. But of course, evolution had to fuck that up by giving me overly complex emotions.

When I arrive home I don't even bother saying hi to whoever is home and lock myself in my room. I just want to be alone with my phone and my shitty feelings.

After I take off my shoes and jeans I grab two blankets and curl myself in them on a corner of the bed, maybe if I bury myself deep enough I'll actually disappear for a little while and stop this turmoil in my head and heart.

I probably shouldn't be blaming my heart, it's just a muscular organ, after all. My high school angst isn't its fault. 

I mess around with my phone in search of anything that will take my mind off The Situation, given that name because not even I know what It is. Are John and me over? _Forever?_

No— no. I'm not going to think about John, I can do that later. Right now, the "Cat Pics" album in my phone's pictures seems pretty appealing. As expected, the album is filled with utter cuteness and fluffiness, and I mentally pat Past Me in the back for saving these. There are funny cats making relatable faces, tiny kittens curled up in groups, and Grump Cat (may she Rest In Peace).

I actually start feeling a little lighter, I don't need to be thinking of anything when looking at cat pictures besides how much I want to cuddle one of those fur balls. And then I find myself wanting to punch Past Me instead of patting him. Out of nowhere, in the middle of a sea of cute cats, is a picture of John and I with some stupid Snapchat cat filter that I for some forsaken reason thought was a good idea to put here.

I immediately scroll past it but the aching is back and tears are rolling down my cheeks before I can even think to stop them. Resigned, I swipe back and look at the picture.

We're behind the school, John's head resting on my shoulder. His skin is immortalized as wrinkly and mouth agape because of the laughter. Instead of looking at the camera, I'm glancing down at John which probably explains why the picture was so blurry, the sight was apparently too cute for me to pay attention. And, yeah, it was. I remember that day, we were listening to songs that once upon a time had been on the radio and still remember most of the lyrics of. At some point _"Let Her Go"_ from Passenger came up and we got into a petty argument about it.

_"It's kinda beautiful, isn't it? To let someone go, even if it makes you sad, as long as they'll be happy in the end," John had said._

_"Fuck that," I immediately countered. "Who cares about what life wants to throw at you? If you love someone, fight for them,"_

I still stand by that. But if that’s the case, what the hell am I doing here? John has been ghosting me, sure, that fucking sucks. But what have I done? Send him texts? Have I even _tried?_

I've been so busy trying to be mad at him, but is it my fault that we're falling apparent?

No, this isn't the time to assign blame. We're both being stupid, and it's about time I _stop_.

I hurriedly put my pants and some sandals on and start heading toward his house, having absolutely no idea of what I'm planning on doing. Whatever, I guess I'll just have to improvise on the go.

My first mistake was running there, it seemed like a good idea in the mists of adrenaline but by the time I make it to the house I'm sweaty and panting which isn't exactly ideal for whatever it is that I'm about to do. _This_ is why adults always encourage sports. Because otherwise, you'll just die of a heart attack running from your room to the fridge. Well, that and sports scholarships since schools and colleges don't give half a shit about any type of art. My second mistake was not peaking inside of John's room before barging in, as creepy as it sounds. Because when I'm done climbing and ungracefully plummet into the bed the only person who is there is John's brother, Harry.

"Uhhhhh," I so eloquently say.

"Jack isn't here, he just left all dressed up 'n stuff. I thought he was going to see you, but," Harry shrugs, not really looking at me as he seemingly steals John's phone charger. I've noticed he isn't a fan of eye contact but I don't mind.

"I— um– do you know where he left?"

He shrugs again.

I sigh. "Alright, take care, buddy,"

Harry gives me a thumbs up and then leaves the room. Man, I love this kid.

I leave John's house and spend the rest of the way home feeling unsure. What do I do now? Do I try again tomorrow? Where was John going "all dressed up 'n stuff"?

Wait, does Harry know about John and me?

Whatever, I can worry about that later. I need to worry about what I'm going to do _now_.

This second, at least, I look up and see that I'm in the neighborhood park. And on the swings, there's a tired looking teenager in a button up shirt and decent jeans holding a small bouquet of purple hyacinths.

This almost gives me a deja vu. Here goes nothing.

I approach silently and sit on the swing next to his. John looks at me startled and opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. We stay there, swaying in silent at the lullaby of the swing's chains for a few minutes before I chip the silence.

"Who are the flowers for?" I mumble.

He huffs out something similar to a tired laugh. "They're for you. I— I was on my way to your house, and then I remembered I don't know where you live,"

It almost makes me chuckle. "Oh?"

I notice him looking at me from the corner of my eye, but stubbornly I keep looking at the ground. "I realized I was being a jerk."

"That's an understatement," I mutter before I can help myself. "You planning on winning me back with flowers?"

He looks down at them, almost embarrassed. "Yes— I mean no! I just thought they would be a nice gesture. And— I don't know..." He sighs. "I should probably explain myself,"

"That would be a nice start."

He sighs again. "You're not my first, not really. I mean, you know that, of course. I— there was this guy I used to be friends with, Francis," I vaguely remembered the name. "And we used to do some _stuff_ , you know. And I... I kinda fell for him,"

"Kinda?" I tease him.

He pushes me lightly. " _Definitely_ fell for him. And when I told him he just— it all just fell apart. I don't blame him, not really. But when I kissed you I just freaked out. You're my best friend, Alexander, you know that. My _only_ friend. And I just got so scared that I was going to lose you I just—"

"Pushed me away?"

He winces. "I know it doesn't make sense, I was being stupid and irrational and I'm not trying to excuse myself. I just want you to know why, and I want to make things right,"

I bite my lip and risk glancing at him. He's looking at me with red teary eyes and I notice there's a slight bruise on his jaw I'll have to ask him about later. "And how are you going to do that?"

He stands from the swing, making the chains clink lightly, and crouches down in from of me, giving me the flowers. "That's your call. But I'll do anything you ask from me, I swear. I just want you to know that I am so so sorry. If you want me to leave you alone forever I'll do it, but please know that I never _ever_ wanted to hurt you. You're like my little light in the darkness, and I was an absolute idiot to push you away just because I was afraid."

I don't say anything for a moment. Just a few minutes ago I was filled with energy and determination but now it's as if it has all been drained from me. "And what do _you_ want?"

He looks at me startled. "Huh?"

"Do you want to keep being shagging partners or do you actually want to date me?" I say bluntly.

His face all the way down to his neck gets red. "Date you, of course!" He stammers. "But if you don't want—"

"Then shut up and kiss me."

I almost want to laugh at John's half-confused, half-scandalized blushing mess of a face; but I just raise my eyebrows faking impatience.

He puts both hands on my face hesitantly and slowly closes the gap between us. From the second his lips meet mine I sigh and melt into it like ice cream, accidentally breaking out of my act. That doesn't matter, anyway. I can feel his curls tickling my cheeks lightly and his rough fingers caressing my skin softly. It makes me feel giddy and lightheaded in the best way possible. There is no thundering music booming on the background like at the near-end of a movie when the two main characters finally kiss, but there are John's sweet sighs on my ear and in my humble opinion, that's even better.

I know not to expect things to go back right where we left them at that attic, we're both hurt and even though we're going to pick up the pieces together, we can still get cut. So when we pull apart, I say something I never thought I would say.

"I'm sorry too. Let's take things slow this time, yeah?"

 


End file.
